Granted. It wasn't specified, so the included lemon is always already squeezed into the drink, and either too little or too much.

Granted. All water has lemon in it. Showers leave you sticky and the lemon juice sprays in your eyes. Lemon rain starts to disrupt ecosystems and eat away at buildings. Only lemon sharks remain in the sea. Collapse is imminent. The citrocene is upon us. But you're very quenched when it comes.

Granted, but the server never washes their hands after handling money, before grabbing and dunking the lemon slice in your water

Granted. Your teapot now always has an entire lemon inside. It's not clear how it got in there.

Granted. For good measure, now everything you eat or drink for the rest of your life will include lemon, without you having to ask.

Granted. You start to feel awful. Intense nausea, abdominal pain, cramps, lack of appetite, etc. A doctor diagnoses you with a bad infection and prescribes an antibiotic. A nasty, lemon flavored liquid that must be taken three times a day for two weeks. Thankfully it works, and you recover.

However, now everytime you go out to eat the server always bring tea or water with lemon in it, and the taste immediately reminds you of the medicine and illness and kills your appetite and enjoyment of the meal.

Granted.

However, your waiter always brings you a lemonade instead of water and an Arnold Palmer instead of tea. No matter how much you ask for water or tea, it's always the same. When you get home, you find that any time you pour yourself a drink, it is either a lemonade or Arnold Palmer. You soon begin to hate the taste. Instead of having to ask for lemon, you spend the rest of your life pleading for plain water and tea. No one listens.

Granted you now have a deadly citrus allergy.

You get a lemon.

Granted. Unzips pants

Granted, but the tea is always rancid, and the water always contains visible larvae.