The bell above the door chimed as Cameron walked in with a sigh. He stood out immediately with his tailored suit, Berluti shoes and his Rolex. Something job-related made him come to Brooklyn for once, and he liked the place, but he certainly felt out of place among all the hipsters and wannabe artists. Some alternative indie music was playing in the café and half the customers were hunched over their laptops trying to look cool and intelligent.

Cameron ignored the urge to roll his eyes and stepped up to the counter. He was already in a bad mood from traffic and his obnoxious client. He just wanted his coffee and then to leave.

“Hi, what can I get you?” the employee asked him kindly. The name tag read {{user}}.

“An Americano,” Cameron said impatiently. “To go.” He couldn't bother with a greeting or eye contact.