Coffee at work
There are moments when socially I’m feeling awkward. At lunch today, in the break room, I heated up my pizza while the coffee lady brewed a new pot of coffee. Three co-workers who I don’t know very well sat and chatted. The coversation began over the coffee, between me and the coffee-making-lady. Since I didn’t know her really well, observational remarks are usually safe.
“New coffee?” I half ironically/truthfully said. I had to probe the matter with humor, but at the same time with honesty to learn if a secret brew was being made.
“I can’t drink the other stuff,” she said.
First, I was incredulous: was I suppose to tolerate this behavior that she wasn’t going to tell anyone; and here she was exerting her power to suckle milk and honey, while the peons drink coffee made from toxic corporate water and the left over grounds of a board meeting. (Okay it isn’t that bad, but the coffee isn’t that great either).
“When are we getting the new stuff?” I asked to keep the coversation neutral but still informative.
She opens the cupboard and my loins shrivel.
“Looks like we have a few more boxes left,” I observe, dejected, depressed.
“We’re still trying to cut expenses elsewhere, spoons, napkins…to justify new coffee,” she said.
“Why don’t we bring our own utinsels?” I said. I smiled immediately afterwards to show my playful attitude, but I really wanted to know the answer. I was ready to sacrfice a few seconds of my break with her, because God knows we have made sacrifices for knowledge in the past.
She smiled coyly, and I suddenly saw new undertones. Immediately I decide THAT would need road blocks, asap. A forty year old who reads erotic novels shouldn’t action her fantasy. (Also, who shares that they read erotic novels at work to a person 20 years their junior. And she had made it as a passing comment as if it didn’t mean much. O la de da, I maturbate with a cucumber. Somethings are left unsaid at work.)
“No we won’t get it, too soon, at least until this junk is gone,” she said and kicked a purple logo. “But I’m going to put a label on this batch that says ‘yum’.” Her eyes flared up and she leaned towards me. She was excited, obviously.
The conversation lulled, as I heated up my pizza and she sat down for the secret coffee to finish. But she wasn’t done with me yet.
“We’re getting power saving microwaves.”
“What does that mean,” I quickly said, to show I was listening.
“To save electricity.”
Uh, was my question that dumb. But I noticed the two women sitting at the table had stopped talking. They looked at each other as if they shared a secret–they were eaves dropping. Not only that, but mocking the conversation we were having. Why else would they take such an interest in a dull conversation other than to make fun of it. First they don’t know me that well, so it had to do with females super senses. They were seeing undertones, understones I wanted to prevent. Dammit. I needed to leave asap.
“What do others think of the new coffee,” I asked kind of glancing at my amorous coffee lover and the six new ears.”
The coffee lover went straight to their table and engaged them.
That was my cue. I beelined to my cubicle, happy and energetic to see the four dingy walls, more so than I was at eight o’clock this morning.
