The legal clinic I intern at does good work for the children of the world. We put rooves over their heads, food in their bellies, and fight for justice for all. We are the model of all that is pure and good in the world, except that is, our coffee. I remember the thrill of anticipation as they placed the coffee pot in the corner of the break room, my heartstrings manipulated by the Brazilian coffee poured into the filter (Good Brazilian coffee is so good that I, the queen of creamers and ungodly amounts of sugar, drink it black, with pleasure). I remember pouring the steaming pot of coffee into my cup and taking in the aroma as I sipped my first sip and then- down came baby, cradle and all, for it was the most heinous beverage I may ever have consumed- ever.
I thought I was alone in my coffee drinking woes but soon noticed nobody touched the coffee. The coin jar gathering dust. The cups empty, unused. Murmurs of dissent in the ranks began surfacing until finally, a full out “coffee revolt” ensued. (What it entails is rather fuzzy, but it feels invigorating to be part of something, you know?)
After weeks of quiet murmur and grumblings and guarded discussions, I got this e-mail today, a proposition to realize our revolution. To stake our independence from the clinic coffee and mark our own coffee drinking territory.
I’ve heard of the “coffee” revolt led by our very own Mr. XX and wanted to say that I would be more than happy to provide coffee for a discounted rate of $.10/cup. I include in my offer a donation of a bag of 1200 coffee filters. YY commits to pitching in a bag of coffee as well. We hope this will provide peace to the coffee boycott.
Yours in coffee,
Yes we apparently do take our coffee very very seriously. If only everything was so simply resolvable.