The Latte F-f-f-actor

A guy figured out that a millennial enjoying a $4 latte each day should invest the money instead so that 45 years from now $4 a day plus interest would amount to half a million dollars she could use to support herself in her old age. From this he developed a popular trademarked book and calculator called "The Latte Factor."

I've seen this argument also with a millennial buying and enjoying a fruit-vegetable smoothie.

Sure, "little things add up," but, did you know, fella:

• That millennial with her indulgent whipped cream mocha latte or smoothie in early afternoon might not have eaten all day. She lives with roommates (unlike Mr. Latte Factor) and one terrorizes her so she flees her dwelling and cannot cook breakfast or fix a lunch because said roommate steals or eats her food or smears it on the floor or screams when she uses the kitchen calling her a fat pig, and for some reason (like, she lives at home and the sicko is her mother or brother or nephew and half her salary goes for room and board) can't move out.
• That millennial is insomniac or severely depressed and by having coffee midday is trying to have a second start to her day to see if it will start any better.
• That millennial owes thousands in student loans, has a crummy job and boss, is the only single left among her friends, and without the daily latte there is nothing to live for.
• That millennial grew up poor and graduated from the public school system and has no idea what an investment is.
• She and her co-workers pooled what money they had and drew straws to see which one of them could have lunch that day, and she won enough for a latte and scone at the nearby coffee shop because any farther away from work and she might get sacked for coming back late. (There is a reason those scones are 700 calories apiece. They are the only food some people get all day.)

Wish I could locate another such study: A psychologist watched amazed as people waited in a long line at the bank for their entire lunch hour trying to cash their weekly paychecks, instead of eating lunch as the psychologist thought they should. Dear amazed psychologist: Until they cashed their checks they couldn't buy any lunch. Maybe their nicely bagged and frugal lunch was at their work station. Even so, the banks open at nine and close at five when these people are working, and the lunch hour is the only window of time they had.