I’m not going to mince words here: I totally fit the Seattle stereotype. I recycle. I rinse and reuse Ziploc baggies. I wear polar fleece and drive a Eurovan. I own at least four umbrellas and I never use any of them.
And I like coffee. Really, really strong, was-that-a-chest-hair-I-just-grew, coffee.
I weaned my child on cappuccinos and served her milk in a Starbucks tumbler.*
*Disclaimer: the above statement is almost entirely false.
At the fabulous-o company where I work, there is a very special gal named Kari. Kari stays plenty busy with her regular job, but somehow she also finds the time to keep our office stocked with myriad sundries and random fun.
I secretly call her the Kari Fairy, and picture her fluttering down the hall with her sparkly red hair and magic wand, sprinkling rainbow-colored treats and morale-boosting fairy dust along the way.
Last week, Kari sent this inter-office email:
That’s all fine and well, but I work remotely and only go into the Seattle office once a week. Plus, John makes a pot of coffee first thing every morning so I’ve gotten a little
spoiled used to waking up to fresh brew.
So, I hit reply and hastily shot this message back and moved on. Done. Check. Next. Feeling pretty good about crossing something off the list.
But then I went into the office. And this happened.
NO, you do not need to adjust your monitor. YES, I am hugging a coffee machine.
It’s hard to describe it if you weren’t there, but it was as if the clouds parted and little coffee bean angels floated down from the sky, blowing little tiny, java-scented angel kisses at me.
Suddenly, our office break room was transformed into a tranquil day spa, except replace the chilled cucumber slices with green post-it notes that I cut into circles for effect and swap out the hot stone massage with … well, nothing, actually. (Who gets hot stone massages in the office break room? That’s just wrong.)
Anyway, suffice it to say, I took my steamy cup of caffeine gold and slinked back to my office, head down, eyes averted. If I had a tail, you know where it would be.
I think this might be what crow tastes like.
And, Kari? Um, if you’re reading this I just wanted to tell you that you have REALLY pretty hair.
And also? If it’s not too late, well, I’d really love the opportunity to change my vote to a “yes” on this whole coffee maker situation. You know, if there’s still time.
Did I mention the hair? It really sparkles.
The good news is that I only have 63 things left on my to-do list before we leave for vay-cay on Thursday. And I am determined to cross three things off AT MINIMUM. By tomorrow morning.
Have you ever had to eat crow? Trust me when I tell you it does NOT taste like chicken.