“There it is!” Emily fairly crowd in triumph. “You heard it: this miserable machine just insulted my daddy!”

“Now, Emily June, I wouldn’t call that an insult.” Boone took another bite of his potato chip sandwich, a man at peace with the world.

“Mr. Newcomb?” Marjorie assumed a look of cautious optimism. “Was this what happened before? You asked for a… down-home dish and the Carème 6000 acted a little-?”

“Patronizing,” Emily broke in. “Condescending. Demeaning.”

Marjorie could take no more. “Oh, for pity’s sake, does your father look like a man who’s been mortally insulted?” She waved one hand at the happily munching Boone. “Even if the Carème 6000 did get a little snotty when he refused its wine selection, do you actually believe he’s stupid enough to be personally insulted by a freaking household appliance? Because if that’s your opinion of your own father’s intelligence, Ms. Newcomb, I think you’re the one who’s behaving in a demeaning manner!”

“How dare you?” Emily’s eyes were ablaze. “You think we don’t know what you’re up to here? When you contacted Daddy about doing this demo, you made it sound like it’d be nothing more than a fact-finding effort to be done privately and in good faith, not a media free-for-all! You and your employer, Mr. Joss Parker, are nothing more than a pack of PR hounds who’d roll over and play dead for extra airtime or another photo in the glossies!”

“Well, we’ve found our facts, haven’t we?” Marjorie gestured at Mr. Newcomb. “Your father got his potato chip sandwich at no risk to life or limb. Yes, the Carème 6000 does seem to be a bit of a wine snob, but if you think a mere touch of attitude is the same as hate speech, you’re not only trivializing a truly deadly social ill, you’ve also just committed it yourself, live and on the air!”

Emily gaped at the accusation. “You’re crazy!”