Confessions of a Freeloader

There has always been an espresso machine at my office. I never used it, because we had free coffee, and really, coffee is just fine with me. When we moved to the new office, the free coffee went away, and the espresso machine became the center of an espresso collective. You give money, and our overly obliging Gal Friday buys the beans and the milk. This led of course to stupid signs on the fridge. "Milk is for espresso users only." Says the original. "Also for calves." Says the hand-written addendum. "And to bind us to our mammalian ancestry." Says the second addendum. Here we go. I did not join the collective, thinking I could just bring my own coffee, or buy the $.50 coffee from the wacky new machine, in a pinch.

I have not gotten my act together on the bringing coffee from home thing, leaving me to spend my hard-earned money at the Starbucks that is strategically located between the parking ramp and my office building. My boring drink at Starbucks, if you were wondering, is the grande nonfat latte, extra hot. Or again, buying the $.50 coffee from the machine (I can't remember what this thing is called), into which you insert your quarters (exact change only) and a weird little packet of something (coffee concentrate?), before you get the coffee out. I was doing that a few weeks ago, when one of my super friendly coworkers that of course I don't know said, "I wondered who would actually use that machine!" Nice.

So I approached the office assistant lady about getting in on the espresso collective. She said that she had recently been told that her arrangement violated the super strict policies of our company regarding soliciting money. They don't mess around. You are not allowed to hang up your kid's Girl Scout Cookie sign up sheet, that kind of thing. She said she was going to figure out some other thing, where we all sign up to bring beans and milk on some particular week or whatever. I said, OK, count me in.

Then, with a little encouragement from a regular user, I figured out how to get a cup of coffee out of the machine, and have been using it ever since. Sorry, this post is so long and boring. Have a cup of coffee! So I see our trusty assistant in the kitchen the other day, and I ask her if she has gotten the coffee thing figured out. She says no. The machine is leaking, and the company has taken back the new one we had that was to be the replacement. Once the beans run out, that's it. The collective is over.

Which means- I have been a coffee drinking member of the espresso collective without ever paying in. It's only been a couple of weeks, and I still occasionally stop at Starbucks, so it's eight or ten cups of coffee. But still! How do I come clean? Put a bowl of nickels on the machine with a note to have each member take one? The real solution is just to stop drinking the coffee right now. Sigh.

Speaking of machines in the work kitchen, the toaster in the new kitchen is SO MUCH BETTER than the one at the old building. Trusting your slices to the old toaster was like holding the bread in front of your mouth and breathing warm air on it. It took two full rounds of toasting at full power to get even marginally crunchy. The new toaster goes to eleven. Crunchy toast is back, baby. I must point out, though, that the toaster is so high tech that it has to beep before the toast is released. Wha? Normally, the sound that alerts me that my toast is done is... the sproing of my toast sproinging out of the toaster. So now I hear Beeeeeeeeeeeeep. pause. Sproing. Can anyone think of a reason I would need the beep to pre-alarm the sproing? Also, quit trying to make toasters all high tech. If you peek into a toaster, you will see the same weird 19th century early electrical technology that toasted my great grandmother's toast (theoretically). Now I am channeling Andy Rooney.

Speaking of machines in the new building, I believe the bathroom at work might be haunted because of the way the paper towel dispensers are constantly issuing forth their product when I am locked in a stall. Those motion sensitive bathroom appliances always make me feel like I'm in a hidden camera show anyway, but the towel dispensers are all about going off when no one is out there making motion. Don't worry, I'm not going to hold a seance in the bathroom. What I need is a motion sensitive coffee maker, small enough to fit on my tiny desk. Beep!