Upon my re-entry to the corporate world, I did something that my childhood self would never have imagined possible – I became hooked on coffee. And I’m not talking about the syrupy, sugar-filled goodness that comes with the green Starbucks stamp of approval on the side. I’m talking about the coffee that is brewed in the office, and reminds me of the evil twin of really cheap rum – drinkable and gives the desired effect initially, but can lead to death, or at least a painful headache.
The initial appeal of office coffee is not high – it does not come with a cozy, intellectually-stimulating atmosphere, free wifi, or itunes song of the day – but it does have one distinct advantage: It is hot and readily available. I think that is really the key to the success of other debilitating habits, such as fast food. It is not something that you would ingest if you were required to make it yourself, at least not in the beginning. It is something that is there for you in a down moment and so you force yourself to gulp it down. Then, after a few more of those moments occur, it becomes a symbol of help and a path to satisfaction, something warm to hold in the bitterly early hours of the day, something to delay your eight-hour layover in front of the computer, to comfort you as you tackle the day’s emails and to give you hope that at some point you will wake up enough to concentrate. Then it becomes a routine, and you no longer really taste coffee; you taste happiness.
However, I somehow have never really mastered the art of mixing things into the coffee. I like cream and sugar in my coffee (my gateway drug was Starbucks, so of course I do!) but I still do not know the correct quantity. I partly blame this on the fact that my mind’s morning haze has not yet cleared when I first mix the cup, which is why I never really seem to remember how much to put in. But then, I think this may also be a subconscious move on my part to require that I drink more coffee. Take a sip, not enough cream so add some. Take a sip, too much cream, add coffee. Take a sip, now it needs more sugar, add some. Take a sip, now it’s half empty and too sugary, add coffee. And the cycle continues. I always envy the people in books and movies that know exactly how much to put in “Two sugars please” or “just a little cream,” is all they say while I’m sitting there cringing at the idea of someone else making my coffee and therefore preventing me to make adjustments as I go.
And then the day comes that there is no coffee. It’s run out or you’re the first one in the office and you come to the realization that you have never, in your life, made coffee. Despite drinking it every day, you’ve never actually made it. After a few agonizing, panic-filled moments while you try to work on without it, you find someone to show you how to make it and life is able to continue, but for a short period of time you are subjected to visions of life without caffeinated joy. A life that feel like a beach without water, which is really just a desert.
I think I may have a problem.
