It happens like clockwork.
Like the sun rising. I will be in my office here at work, quickly putting together an afternoon pot of something nice; and someone will walk by my open door. Sniffing.
“Gosh, gosh that smells … nice!” they say.
Being the nice person that I try to be, I will offer a cup. I keep a stash of styrofoam dixies around just for these moments. But usually, the response to my coffee making efforts is spurned.
“Oh, no,” comes the rejection, “I love the smell of coffee, but I can stand the stuff to drink.”
What is that? Come on, what IS that really? You like how it smells so much you’re willing to stand at an open doorway and sniff someone’s personal office but you wont’ accept a cup? A FREE cup? Maybe it’s the health thing. They don’t understand my home roast has less caffeine than Starbucks. Maybe it’s fear that they will become addicted, which is a real danger, by the way. Or maybe … maybe it’s me. They noticed my humped back, or my wild eye, or something caught in my teeth and they can’t stand to look at me.
When rejected and rebuffed in this manner, I will simply nod and say: “Maybe next time.” This is met with a similar nod and a quick dash from my door.
I then simply pour myself a cup, return to my paperwork, and perhaps scratch a bit at my hump. Their loss.