You don't know how to make iced coffee. You say you do. It's on your menu. But you don't. Because it isn't iced coffee that comes out of your taps. Rather, it is
room temperature coffee--probably stuff you forgot to dump down the sink--into which you plop a glob of caramel and two (count 'em two) inadequate, in fact rather sad looking, ice-cubes. Which cubes are so over-matched by the not cold and yet far from hot liquid around them that they can accomplish nothing by way of rendering that liquid "icy" but do manage to thin it out a bit when they have finally melted. So the poor sap who purchased this caffeinated abortion is left clutching an ever-stickier cup of diluted, body-temperature coffee as their bus crawls its way through the barrens of East Scarborough.
And, Mr. Tim, I will simply note that this was the worst coffee drinking experience I've ever had that didn't involve finding a dead junky in the mensroom at
Coffee Time. I will be taking the gay stuff at
Satanbuck's from now on, thank you very much. For though the place is staffed entirely by Freedom hating Taliban loving art school dropouts with green hair and rings through their nose, they understand how to serve coffee chilled.
Your organization clearly does not.
