The throwing part is where the cliche ends for me. He doesn't look endeared by the incident, nor amused. He looks mad as freaking hell. My brain freezes, mental capability flees, and I look away from his penetrating gaze, but that brings my focus to his chest, where coffee drips down onto his doubtless expensive shoes.I want to die. I have never wanted to die before, but if a magic wish were granted me now, I would happily cease to exist. I've just thrown a full and very hot cup of coffee all over my very hot new boss.