Why Coffee Drinkers Suck
I've never worked in a drug rehab center, but I can't imagine heroin addicts bitch nearly as much as coffee drinkers who have missed their fix. I don't care how badly you need a cup, go whine to someone else. As you may have guessed, I don't drink coffee. I think it tastes like shit, but that doesn't mean it's necessarily bad. I think "Roxanne" sounds like someone assaulting a weasel with a rusty cheese grater, but Rolling Stone still believes it's the 398th greatest song of all time. No, coffee falls under the same category as Apple products or BMWs; there's nothing wrong with the products themselves, it's the people who use them.
If you've ever worked in an office, you already know of (and have probably participated in) the powder keg of strained cooperation that makes up the communal coffee maker, like lions and gazelles that both drink from the same watering hole. There is a strict and complicated ritual that goes along with it, specifically regarding WHEN coffee cups are to be washed and exactly WHO is supposed to make a fresh pot and just HOW long a pot is allowed to sit there before a new one needs to be made, and you can be sure to receive a barrage of passive-aggressive e-mails reminding you of the policies should someone fuck it up, regardless of whether or not you actually drink coffee.
If you've had the incredible misfortune to work in the restaurant industry, you know that customers can be just as bad, if not worse, about their coffee. In high school I worked at McDonald's, and my least favorite shift was the breakfast shift. Getting up early sucked in itself, but it was also the time of day that the worst group of customers would show up: the senior citizens. The store didn't open until 6, but at 5:45 every morning, the caravan of wheezing old farts would crawl into the parking lot and line up outside the door like it was the last helicopter out of Saigon. Woe betide you if you didn't unlock the doors on time because at 6:01, they would lose their shit and begin pounding on the glass like an octogenarian zombie horde. They couldn't remember their children's names, but they were like a goddamn cesium clock when it came to opening time.
The Holy Grail of their quest was the Senior Coffee. When I worked there, a small 12 oz. coffee cost $0.89. The Senior Coffee was also 12 ounces, but only cost $0.59 (both came with free refills). The geezers would take up their spots in the lobby and proceed to consume 7,000 pots of coffee over the next six or seven hours. One day, one of the grandpas came shambling up to the counter and requested his refill. I noticed that the coffee pot that was already made was 24 minutes old (the pots "expired" after 20, and the time was meticulously marked with a grease pencil to placate picky coffee drinkers, i.e. all of them), so I informed him that there would be a brief wait while a new pot was made. After huffing indignantly, he replied that he was in a hurry and the old coffee would have to do. I then noticed that there was only about half a cup left in the pot. I grabbed the pot from the drive-thru coffee maker and discovered that there was only half a cup left in there as well. My thought process went something like this:
Pleased with my ingenuity, I began to pour one pot into the other. The old man saw this and had what some might consider a slight overreaction:
Though I was quite certain the mixing of the two pots would not summon Satan as the old man apparently assumed, I meekly poured out the Hitler brew and made him a new pot.
It is in this way that coffee drinkers are worse than cigarette smokers. Smokers generally have the decency not to involve you in their ilk. Coffee drinkers have no shame, and would shank a litter of orphaned puppies if it meant getting their cup of joe. They will happily excuse earlier (or future) abusive behavior as, "Oh, sorry, I haven't had my morning coffee yet," as though their chemical dependency somehow gives the carte blanche to be a raging prick. Why can't I apply this logic apply, to say, oral sex?
When you watch specials on drug addicts, you wonder how they can do things like snort coke off a toilet seat or shoot heroin into the tip of their penis. Moments ago, my co-worker took his 42nd coffee break of the day. He poured himself a cup, using the same mug that hasn't been washed in days and was somehow able to overlook the fact that the pot has so much calcium at the bottom that it qualifies as an ossuary. He added the requisite amounts of cream and sugar, took a swig and scowled, saying, "this coffee tastes like shit." Then, without a trace of irony, took another sip, grimaced, and headed back to his desk.