So I’m down in the Zodiac Cafe in the main floor of my building, getting some breakfast. Somebody orders a bagel, and I watch in amazement as the barista (and, I suppose, bagelier) uses this fab device to slice the bagel without slicing his hands. In truth, I’d never want such a thing myself–can you say counter-space waster? However, it’s a pretty handy device for a cafe.
In my youth, I worked in various capacities at the beautifully-situated Horseshoe Bay Boathouse. One of my jobs was cutting bread–at least one loaf for every table. We used a very sharp serated knife, and on a nightly basis somebody would end up spraying blood all over their loaf. Obviously this bagel slicer wouldn’t have been applicable, but it still reminded me of those days of scarred fingers and discarded, bloody loafs.
Bonus link: While searching for the correct spelling of ‘barista’, I discovered this wicked action figure. Apparently “her beans are always freshly ground, she never tamps the filter basket too tight and her foam is perfect.” That sounds kind of dirty.