Ehm... you didn't get the memo? Restaurant food isn't for eating any longer - it's function is simply to photograph well for social media. You go to the cafe, work up an appetite taking a bunch of photos, and then go home and bake a frozen pizza. You're not paying for flavor - you're paying for the "likes."

I once inquired about the price of a used t-shirt at a thrift shop masquerading as a fancy South Beach "vintage boutique" - the impatient Middle-Eastern gent behind the counter told me "fifty dollars!" "Fifty dollars?!" I asked, alarmed - to which he replied "you don't pay for shirt, you pay for style!" I decided I wasn't wealthy enough to be stylish and left.
The hipsters probably liked the shirt just fine

- perhaps would've found it even more palatable if it included the countenance of Che Guevara but you can't please everyone all the time.
I saw a very interesting documentary about the incident, which occured at a postal facility (in Hawaii, I believe), that inspired the saying. The takeaway for me was: Be kind and considerate to everyone you encounter - you have no idea when a small show of compassion may, quite literally, save your life.
Thanks for the gorgeous lamb pics, all!