Losing My Coffee Battle at Work
In my 34 years of gracing the planet with my presence I've come to realize many things. The most important of what I've learned could be to pick my battles. I've picked. I've passed. This time? I fight. I've gone covert. This web page will self-destruct in 15 seconds.
I've put a lot of my childish ways behind me. I don't play video games (when my wife is home). I don't hang out with the boys (when my wife is in town). I don't tear up the town until closing time (even if my wife says it's ok). Call it trial & error. I've learned that if I play video games the house doesn't get cleaned and I miss sleep trying to win "just one more level". I don't hang out with the boys because they don't smell as nice as my wife. I don't stay out until closing time because I don't recover and bounce back as quick as I once did.
Through all that I've voluntarily (and non-voluntarily) given up as I age there's one thing I cherish now more than ever: coffee. It's the nectar of the gods for those that have ever done morning radio or held a job that requires a pre-dawn wake-up call. I'm now waging a battle to save the coffee at the radio station. Since I first started working in this building in December, 2001 there's been a steady supply of coffee. Not just any coffee, individually-packed packets of Folgers and a coffee pot connected directly to a water pipe coming from the wall. That meant it was a simple opening of the package, pouring into filter, putting filter & pot underneath the spout and go. Two minutes later, perfectly brewed coffee was ready. Nothing fancy. More importantly, nothing complicated.
For twelve years this coffee system worked perfectly. Sure, there was the occasional time when I forgot to put the pot back under the stream and had to clean up a monumental spill all over the kitchen floor, but for the most part it was a perfect system. The morning shows would go through a couple pots, the midday crew went through a pot, and I generally started one last pot in the early afternoon. There was a time or two when the burner wasn't turned off over the weekend and was a tar-like substance on Monday morning. Still, everyone was happy.
The trouble began out of nowhere. I hadn't heard even a whisper of displeasure with the ol' tried-and-true system, yet one afternoon there appeared a fancy new individual-serve coffee system. Think Keurig, but it's not. Expensive, it is. I gave it the ol' college try. I also gave it two weeks. It lasted two and a half weeks. Out with the new, in with the old? For some reason, no. We were no longer going with the coffee fairy that would magically show up every few weeks with new coffee packets. We were no longer going with the single-serve model. We went with a Sams Club model with a stainless steel pot.
I've tried to get it right. We have to guess how many scoops to go with. I've overfilled it every time, and a brown sludge leaks over the side and makes a mess. There are coffee grounds in each cup. Yet I can't quit my coffee.
My wife stepped up big by allowing me to use our smaller, older Keuring that had been at her work since we upgraded models this past Christmas. I fought the Keuring battle at my house. I lost. I fought the easy-coffee battle at work. I lost. As a result, I've set up my own coffee station in my office. I've locked my Keurig packets away and stashed the coffee maker in my office. Big battle, small victory.