There is nothing like taking that first glorious sip of finely-brewed coffee to kick off a busy day.

Wait. Did someone say “coffee”? As in, a cup of coffee? As in, “Is there any coffee in Pierre Poilievre’s cup of coffee?”

So, did he or didn’t he take repeated slugs from an empty cup? We’ll probably never know.

It’s like Schrödinger’s Coffee: to admit it was empty will be to validate all the mean things people have been saying the last few days. To proclaim the cup was full of coffee will inflame continuing debate and satisfy no one.

But here’s the thing: if people are talking about the phantom coffee, they’re certainly not paying attention to what you’re trying to say. (Hands up everyone who has the slightest recollection of what Poilievre was talking about.)

This is different from the infamous apple-chomping video, where Poilievre took down some feckless local reporter with the most vividly contemptuous takedown ever recorded. His base loved it and shared it widely. Those who didn’t like it – and that’s a lot of people –- couldn’t wait to hit their keyboards after his election loss, quoting Matt Damon’s famous Good Will Hunting line: “How do you like them apples?”

So here are two takeaways from coffeegate, now that it has cooled down, as it were: 

1. If trolling is your brand attribute, then you should expect to get trolled. Lots of people have been doing just that and, to be blunt, Poilievre is getting what he gives. But here’s the larger problem: as someone who holds a critical role in our country’s democracy, Mr. Poilievre has an obligation to communicate in a way that conveys the gravitas of his position. That obligation starts with a commitment to elevating the national conversation. Not with clickbait or troll tactics, but with serious dialogue done seriously. Coffee or no coffee, we have to expect more from a federal leader’s communication tactics.

2. Authenticity is the coin of the realm when it comes to public life and public communications. Most normal people have a natural ability to detect phoniness. And once detected, it quickly becomes the ONLY thing you see. If people can’t trust you on the little things, like empty coffee cups, why would they trust you on the important things? 

With Poilievre, his election team hinted at this when they conceded that the more people became aware of him, the less they liked him. Even a Globe and Mail pundit, not known for his Bolshevik tendencies, referred to him as “an ankle-biting backbencher.” The cumulative perceptions along these lines may not be helpful for the leader as the party considers how best to re-engineer itself for future elections. The late-campaign happy everyman Poilievre convinced no one.

And in today’s fast-moving, grotesquely amplifying, take-no-prisoners social media ecosystem, what may have seemed like a trivial detail (“Hey, somebody give him a coffee cup. It’ll make him look like a regular dude…”), that kind of thoughtless little detail can overcaffeinate an otherwise quiet morning.