Guy in frayed shorts, on the computer and the cell phone simultaneously: “You know ____ _____? Her first kiss was in a church, during a lock-in. Let me see what else . . . she’s wearing black underwear right now . . . the last time she cried was last night. That’s kinda sad . . . No, she’s not online.”

This same coffeeshop, the other day, the teenage barista asked her friends, loudly enough for the entire coffeeshop to hear, if they [SPOILER] when [SPOILER] [SPOILER] at the end of the latest Harry Potter book. Fortunately I was the only person there at that time, and I’m not a Potter fan. Had I been, I might well have throttled her and expected to be acquitted by a jury of my peers.

Apparently there is something about the coffee here that does not compel discretion.

(As for which coffeeshop, y’all are free to guess. Hint: not Starbucks. Hint #2: not Octane.)