A serious case for bad coffee in the workplace

In the nearly two years I have been with my current company, the coffee has pushed the boundaries of drinkable. Some days, if I really had to, I could choke down a second cup of coffee, provided I did not let it get less than hot. Other days, I gave up and turned to green tea for a less potent but constant stream of caffeine.

We had a glorious week last Christmas season when a client had given us gourmet coffee grounds as a gift, and my co-workers and I drifted on wafts of dark roast and drank ourselves into a caffeinated stupor. Which, of course, is all fine and good for a week at Christmas when you’re high on sugar and baking and aren’t expected to do much proper work. After Christmas, we were back to the same old sour, rancid-tasting beans that offended my coffee-loving soul, but that allowed me to work with a reasonable level of background vibration.

Not surprisingly, it seems I was not the only person in my office with a coffee grievance. For, just this past week, my company decided to spring for Fair Trade coffee, and today was my first morning with the new coffee-making system. Enter chorus of coffee-robed angels! Blessed Sumatra, fill my cup with your dark roasted glory!

I drank three cups before 9:30.

Giddily, I tried to maintain focus so I could insert forgotten commas and remove reduntant phrases. I kept losing my place. I decided I should drink some herbal tea.

I switched back to coffee at 3:30.

I think I was talking much more quickly than usual and possibly demonstrating artificial confidence in my power over other humans.

I know how this will play out. I will spend next week binging on coffee. The following week the sight/smell of coffee will make me nauseous. I will cut back. A bit. For a while. Then, there will be one bad night, one rough morning, and the black temptress will be smiling slyly. I will fill my cup again and again. The punctuation will dance, and all the mundane phrases will shine in my caffeine haze.