The Coffee Nazi

The One Cup to Rule Them All….

No coffee for YOU!

No Coffee For YOU!

In my life, there have been several moments when people have turned to me seeking guidance and help.  Most have been in my professional sphere, where quick decisions were needed or some strange bit of proprietary knowledge was required to help save the day.  I’ve found lately that such moments of total power come more often than before, but not because I’m smarter or better than anyone else here at work.  The power I hold comes in the form of a small, dark bean.   I hold the power of coffee.

Absolute coffee corrupts absolutely.

I will begin with the fact that my place of work has the WORST coffee on the planet.  This is not the fault of anyone here … they spend money and make the effort to provide us with the ingredients and equipment to attempt a drinkable cup.  The problem is the water, which is comes from limestone aquifers far underneath our feet.  It is terrible tasting, and is too hard to make anything but swill from even the best roasted bean.  So, I have taken it upon myself to provide a select few a good cup of coffee in the morning, made from “imported” water (East Texas will do) and some nice home roasted beans.  I use a chemex drip maker, which delivers a nice, bright cup.  As some say around here, I “murder” Starbucks.  I accept that description with pride.  But the problem is … once you have such power, the ability to have folks “ask” when you will grace them with another pot, things start getting out of hand.

The java junkies come to beg…

One becomes a bit of a coffee dictator of sorts.  A despot of the demitasse.  Who will I grace with a cup of “Gerry’s stuff” today?  Who deserves to be amped up with some nice Columbian or some nice Kenyan Peaberry?  The power becomes addictive, perhaps a wee bit dangerous.  I have visions of standing at my office door, coffee pot in hand, in a Soup Nazi smock.  “You clipped a mic on the cut-in … no coffee for YOU!”   I see myself as kindhearted and humble, but the call of the precious, precious bean …well, it makes one think a bit differently.  Precious…. my precious.   Where was I?  Oh, yes….

Perhaps a coffee lottery…

Or a mail-in essay, 500 words or less on why someone should get a cup of Peruvian Esparanza.  Maybe I can build a coffee wheel of fortune of sorts, where everyone’s picture is on the wheel.  Hmmm….. there must be away to make this democratic, a populist stance towards a decent cup of coffee for all.  Perhaps I should write Mr. Obama, perhaps he can help figure out a “coffee-care” plan that would relieve me from the life and death coffee decisions that now haunt me every day.  There must be an answer, as the java zombies now walk the hall in front of my office door, carrying an empty coffee mug and asking how my day is going.   This is when the power turns ugly, when the burden of the bean becomes too much.  I don’t want this power anymore, I must be free of it, before it consumes me too.

I will be strong, like a good espresso.

I will find an answer, a way to be fair and good with the caffeinated kryptonite that I control.   Perhaps I will increase my roasting output and deliver enough so that the masses can be satisfied.  Perhaps I will free myself of the petty concerns of my daily job and rise to the higher calling of the java evangelist, spreading the word of a good cup to those who have been deprived.

Maybe I’ll start charging.  Wait a minute … charging!

Hmmm….. !  🙂

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