So

Cory’s a businessman. He’s twenty-seven. He did the whole corporate finance gig after college and hated it, and now, now he comes with a set of keys, unlocks the door, cracks the blinds, flips on the lights, and makes lattes for a living. If he doesn’t want to come in, guess what? We’re closed. If somebody’s bitching at him what a stupid business practice that is—“Young man, let me talk to your boss”—guess what?

“You’re talking to my boss. I’m my boss. Want some coffee or not, man?”