Take the above series of elevator notes, found in an unidentified San Francisco building. One tenant, listening to day after day of courtyard thoughtleadership, took their frustration and posted it to the wall of the elevator. But the bombastic brogrammer also owned a printer, and followed up with the ultimate tech man-child fuck you comeback.
It's a situation that plays out daily in San Francisco, be in bars, on BART, or in line for coffee. But rarely does it manifest itself with catronauts.