Thursday, May 14, 2009

Story Four: Decaf anyone?

From Monday to Thursday, I will post four stories about my life, one per day. Three of them will be the "I may just wish I was kidding but am totally serious" truth, and one will be an outright lie. On Friday, you will be able to vote for which story you think is fictional. I will reveal my lie the following Monday.

{P.S. Some of you may already know one or two of these stories, and if you do, please go along with the fun and not share your knowledge with others. I want this to be something interactive and fun for all my bloggity friends.}

When I first started working at my current place of employment, I had a set of jobs that I had to complete before I left for the day. One of these jobs was to prepare a coffee pot with the appropriate amount of water and Starbucks House Blend Medium Roast Decaf Coffee, so that when my boss got in the next morning, all he'd have to do is press the start button. (This is ironic for many reasons, including the fact that I didn't and don't drink coffee, nor did I know how to make it. Because a mini-coffee maker at the PF, used twice a year, does not count.)

I was also to monitor our coffee supply. Initially, the decaf and regular coffees were packaged in different bags, so they were quite easy to distinguish.

Which is why I was dismayed to find, one evening, as I was emptying the decaf into the coffee maker that there wasn't enough to make a full pot. (In fact, I don't think there was enough for an entire cup, it was that empty.) I looked in the freezer, and all I found were bags and bags of regular coffee. I didn't know what to do. Hadn't I sent the runner for more decaf this week? Where was it? And who else had used it today, because there was plenty last night. Should I try to mix it with regular coffee? No, I can't... he'd KNOW.

I didn't dare leave for the night without preparing the sacred coffee, and left with no other choice, I set out for the nearest Starbucks, empty bag in hand.

I got to Starbucks and asked for three bags of House Blend decaf, medium roast (I was reading the info off the sticker that was affixed to the empty bag). The Starbucks employee asked me another question that I didn't understand, so I just handed him the bag and said I needed three bags of whatever that was.

He put them in a sack for me and rang me up, and I rushed back to the office.

I got back to work, and after sitting in the elevator on the ground floor for two minutes, realized it was now after hours and I'd have to scan my electronic card to get the elevator to work.

When I got back upstairs, I literally ran smack into my boss, who was confused to find me there so late.

Boss: "What are you still doing here?"
Me: "Well, we were out of decaf, so I just ran to Starbucks to get some more really quick. So you could have your coffee in the morning."
Boss (with a pitying look) "I think I would have been fine without it for one morning."

GREAT. Glad I've been running around like a chicken with its head cut-off for the last hour.

I take leave of my boss, and head into the kitchen. I then open the freezer to place the newly purchased coffee bags inside and about faint in disbelief.

Because I notice that the bags that I had just purchased from Starbucks were packaged in the same bags that the regular caffeinated coffee was packaged in. And that fact caused me to notice something else...

The freezer was already full of decaf. Because you see, I didn't understand that the defining feature of a bag of coffee is its sticker. It is the sticker, not the bag, that tells you what type of coffee it is.

Like I'm supposed to know that. I don't drink coffee. But still... how lame am I?

In my haste to get home, I didn't stop my car soon enough to avoid gently tapping the car in front of me (I was late for something else I can't remember, and was still harried from the coffee fiasco). To my dismay, a huge bald man with copious tattoos and piercings angrily emerged out of said car. I rushed to open my door, get out and apologize. (Though I think my speech undertones probably denoted a plea of "don't kill me.")

Luckily, there was not even the slightest nick or even paint transfer on either of our cars (I've had worse door dings... and as I told you, I barely tapped his car) and the man was nice about it and got back in his car and drove away.

Let's just say it wasn't my finest day.

But on the plus side (insert sarcasm here), my boss didn't run out of coffee for a long time.

No comments: