I gave full warning I might do this. (I've done it more than once, in fact.)
My own tree needed to take a year in deep, restorative, comatose unproductiveness, to compensate for having been moved a mere 10 miles (in its own pot, no less, the poor sissy).
It's doing better now. I'm pretty sure the plump lemonlets on the branches will hang on this year, grow larger, and eventually turn yellow.
But when life doesn't give you ripe lemons on your tree at home right this minute, you swipe some.
This little guy was not about to grow any larger, ripe as he already was. And the gardener who tends this commercial patio has never, to my knowledge, harvested a single lemon, much less invited the chef out to select one or two.
So it was kind of my karmic duty to see that it got a good home.