One of my favorite blogs is “please, stop bouncing.” Stephanie has a crazy sense of humor, a fun writing style, and she blogs about stuff I can relate to. What’s better than that?
Her recent post called “WTF Friday: The Coffee Pot” had me in stitches, and had me thinking back on my own “Coffee Pot” episode from a few years back. So, in blogging solidarity, I share with you,
New Girl Made the Coffee
I started a new job on a Monday in March back in 1987 as an Administrative Assistant to the head of Environmental Programs and Compliance at a huge manufacturing company. I had been working at this company for about 18 months as a temp in another office, and when this job came up it was a perfect fit.
On my first day, my boss’ boss’ assistant showed me around the office, but focused on the huge Brun four-burner coffee machine in an alcove behind my desk. One of the “old timers” who had been with the company practically since it was hatched had an office across from the coffee station. He came out, said a quick hello, and then instructed me on the office’s coffee policy.
1) First person in the office makes two pots of coffee, or “we don’t drink no decaf crap around here.”
2) If you take the last cup, you make another pot of coffee, or “you drink up the last drop, you better make a new pot.”
3) If supplies start to get low, give the cafeteria down the hall a call, and they will bring us more; or, “Don’t ever/ever let the coffee supplies run out. Ever. Or else.”
4) At the end of the day, you need to set up the coffee for morning brewing so when I come in, I can just press the button and brew away; or, “I’m too freaking lazy to fill the pots up myself, so you do it.”
I thought it was a bit much, and all of these instructions about how “I” was to comply with the “coffee instructions” annoyed me. A lot.
My second day on the job, I got there about 15 minutes before everyone else. I filled up the pots with fresh water, loaded up the coffee machine, and instead of using one bag for each pot, I used three.
When Mr. Old and Crusty came in, he grunted hello to me, and headed to the coffee pots. About that time, four or five others showed up for their coffee, and they all stood around adding sugar, creamer, and shooting the bull. Old and Crusty yelped out, “Who the hell made the coffee this morning?” One of my colleagues was heard to say, “I think the “New Girl” made it.”
I walked over to the coffee station, and was promptly told by Mr. Old and Crusty, “Do us a favor, please? Don’t ever make another pot of coffee, ever, ok? You just don’t have the knack.”