Ferdinand

Buying a cup of chicken soup and a latte from a multinational lunchtime eatery, I notice that my server's badge merely says 'TRAINEE'.

'You don't have a name', I say.  'No', he replies.  'I'm still waiting for one'.  He has floppy hair and an enthusiastic attitude. 

I decide to counter his corporate anonymity by asking my question.  He pauses to froth the milk before giving me an answer.  I ask if it is from The Tempest.  'No', he replies, 'It's after the bull'.  I remember reading about the sensitive bull who would rather smell flowers than compete in bullfights.  'From the children's story', he confirms.