Access Denied

After driving to work each morning, I start my work day with a very simple ritual. 

I coordinate my already-painful commute so that I arrive at the parking garage just after someone determined to find a spot on the lower levels.  After 10 minutes of stop and go (in the parking garage!), I arrive on the sixth or seventh level.  

I walk to Starbucks for my first Venti coffee of the day, paying for it with a "thank you" that receives a nod in reply that silently says "we'll see you later for your refill complimentary with your registered and loaded Starbucks card, you pathetic addict". 

Sipping my liquid gold, I usually walk a block to work and use my key card to gain access to the back door. Soon thereafter, I'm plugging in my laptop in my office on the third floor thinking about the free refill in my future.

However one day recently, my key card didn't work on the back door. I knew that the proximity sensor was working, because moments before I had watched someone 30 feet in front of me open the door and let it slam before I could get there to catch it.  I would have beat the slowly closing door had I not been fumbling my coffee, card, lunch, and computer bag. Once my card failed to grant access, I was contemplating a short walk around the building to reception when someone I recognized from the seventh floor came along to open the door. After the prerequisite "Do you work here? Ha Ha Ha" and more fake laughter all around, I followed him into the building. 

I took the stairs so as to avoid more stupid small talk on the elevator with my acquaintance. When I got to the third floor, I remembered that my access required my key card again. It was still in my hand, so I quickly flashed it in front of the sensor hoping that my earlier access problems were a fluke. No luck. I stood there for a few minutes in the stairwell, peering through the door window waiting for someone to walk by and let me in. Nobody appeared and after a couple of minutes of waiting, I decided to address my key card problem sooner than later. 

I walked down stairs to the lobby and approached the security desk with my card still in hand.  

"There's something wrong with my key card," I explained as I extended the card to him. "I bet someone new is sitting at my desk too."

The security guard feigned laughed as he reached for the card and said "Perhaps I'll have to escort you from the building later."

I reciprocated with more laughter. This time it was nervous laughter as I tried to determine how serious he was.

He looked at the card before looking up at me with a smile.

"This card isn't working because your balance is too low" he said as he handed back my Starbucks card.

My Right is Your Coffee Pot's Left

My wife says the cutest things.  Her use of the phrase "Snuggling the Rim" instead of "Hugging the Curve" while speeding along an exit ramp once has made me smile every time I think of it.

With her permission, I will be starting a non-consecutive series of posts dedicated to L-speak.  While waiting for said permission, I will risk an uncomfortable 24 hours (or more) by sharing the latest L-ism.

In our house, we make two pots of coffee; one flavored for her, one non-flavored for me.  Until I went away for a week, we had a robust and simple protocol.  Mine was on the right, while hers was on the left.  Apparently, this changed so that she could use the newer pot on the right during my absence.  This has led to some confusion since my return.  Yesterday, I drank flavored coffee by accident.  She also drank flavored coffee, but not by accident.  The ratio of non-flavored to flavored java had reached an uncomfortable level.

My short-term memory is so poor that, by the time I was ready to leave for work, I had already forgotten that the coffee maker on the right was flavored despite the earlier mishap.  I poured some into a travel mug and dumped the rest down the sink drain before tasting it.  When my wife went to pour her cup for the road, she realized my error and pointed it out.  At which point, she promptly dumped the non-flavored coffee down the sink drain. 

Unfortunately, I had already made mine sweet enough to make both L and my dentist cringe. We were both left without our precious last cup.  And everything counts. It was truly a lose-lose situation.

This morning, we were both cautious around the coffee counter.  I even considered setting the alarm to get up early to make big signs and color code the machines.  Instead, we decided that we simply needed more communication.  

"Which one is mine?" she asked.

"The one on the right," I replied.

"Which right? Your right?"

Since her right and mine were the same, it was clear that we were not alone.  I hadn't realized that while I was away, the coffee pots had taken on a life of their own.  They apparently now have their own unique perspective from which relative locations could be referenced.  This might be extremely useful for everyone were L's coffee pot to give mine some directions.  To me.

Will Work For Coffee

This morning, I got up early and walked to Starbucks for coffee and breakfast.  On my way there, I watched at least a dozen joggers run past me, near me, around me, and over me.  It occurred to me that I used to be that person.  I was once the guy that got up early, threw on my sneakers, and ran past the walkers and breakfast joints.  Now I'm the guy that gets up early, puts on his casual work shoes, and walks to get a breakfast sandwich.

When I got to Starbucks, I ran into someone that I know.  He's also here for the conference and we struck up a conversation.  We covered all the basics about when we arrived, how our flight was, and where we had spent our companies' money last night.  I didn't spend any, because I had to get sleep so that I could up early for my breakfast outing.  Once we knew as much as we needed to know about each other to maintain acquaintance status, he went to the other side of the store to wait for his company-subsidized latte.  

The guy behind me started talking to me.  Actually, I think that he was talking to himself but I was suddenly responding.  He had no upper teeth and I only understood every third word.  He had clearly been living on the streets for awhile.  The rising cost of a Venti has effected some more than others.  

He was telling me a story about how he waved to some children in a stroller and they and their parents just stared at him without responding.  Then, a garbage truck drove by and they were jumping up and down waving at the truck whose driver did not reciprocate their enthusiasm. The man was disappointed that, despite his friendly efforts, he ranked lower than a garbage truck.  He was laughing about it. So was I, because I began to realize that he was a nice guy with a good sense of humor.  I even think he would enjoy my blog.  Or at least every third word.

After we chatted for a minute or two, it was my turn to order and pay.  I had the bills, but was five cents short.  While digging around my pocket for a nickel, my conference acquaintance walked over and handed me the change and smiled.  I had a twenty in my pocket, but I was grateful for the gesture and the five cents.

I said goodbye to old friends and new and started walking back to my hotel.  I decided to sit down on a bench and eat my sandwich.  It's not often that I can sit outside on a January day and eat my breakfast.  I pulled out my sandwich at which time a nearby flock of pigeons came to see what I had.  What he has, what does he have, a sandwich, a sandwich!  They were all around me now.  Still sitting, I started stomping my feet to scare them away but they only flinched the first few times.  I was annoyed and dropped part of my sandwich.  Now, I was angry and started telling the pigeons to move along.  I wrapped up my sandwich and started walking back to my hotel to eat in private.

When I got back to my hotel room a few minutes ago, it occurred to me that I have met most of the requirements for an eccentric homeless person.  Accepting nickels, hamming it up with other homeless people, yelling at pigeons from a park bench, and watching people run around me and away from me.  I'm only a few steps away from cursing at garbage trucks while waiting for my latte.  Or perhaps I should say I'm...few...from...garbage...waiting...latte.

Curbing My Addiction

A typical outing when I have my two kids (while my wife is at work) is to go to Barnes and Noble bookstore.  It's a great outing for everyone in the group.  The first stop is the Starbucks connected to the bookstore.  My day instantly gets better with my large coffee and the three of us split a muffin.  

We then venture into the children's books section where we have a routine.  We go to the section where they have the books that make music.  There is a lot of button pressing, noise making, and pulling books off the shelves so that Daddy can pick them up.  We then find the alphabet books and spend about 15 minutes there.  Eventually, we all get bored and decide to leave.  Sometimes, the B & N becomes the site of a tantrum when it's clear to the kids that our home book collection will not be increasing in size that day.

On one particular day last Fall, both of my kids wanted to be carried to the car as it was pouring rain.  I don't always give in to this, but I chose to avoid a toddler meltdown on that day.  I was just glad that we escaped the book section without incident and wanted to keep the momentum going.  Unfortunately, I couldn't carry both kids, our bag bursting with kid gear and snacks, an umbrella, and my coffee.  We stood outside on the sidewalk and under the awning for a moment while I considered my options.

It was clear that I would have to leave the coffee behind.  But, the Venti was half-full and it was an essential element to my future (at least the next eight hours).  I placed the coffee down on the sidewalk by the curb, picked up the kids and gear and ran for the car with my umbrella poised only semi-effectively over us.  I briefly felt guilty about the littering, but believed that I had an excusable motive.  In court, my friends and family would attest to my coffee addiction which would confirm that I was thinking irrationally at the time and thereby securing my temporary insanity defense.

Once in the car and buckled in, we were ready. Except I was disappointed about my coffee.  We started to pull out of the parking area and while waiting to turn right, I glanced left and saw my coffee on the curb.  I quickly changed my turn signal from right to left and peeled out of the parking lot.  I pulled up to the curb, jumped out, ran around the car, grabbed my coffee, ran back to my seat, and jumped in.  And it was totally worth it.

Pinching Coffee Cups

In my house, a cafe-bought cup of coffee is an important unit of monetary measure. It is used as a way to describe the cost of something else or how much was saved.

For example, we recently considered cancelling the newspaper. We realized that this was costing us the equivalent of 7 cups of coffee per month. However, the savings at the grocery store that would result from coupons retrieved from the paper should equal or exceed that for it to be a justified expense. For example, last week alone I cut coupons worth at least 20 cups of coffee. I had to eat a lot of cereal and frozen dinners this week to cash in on those savings.

Gas prices these days, huh? The recent increase and subsequent fall of gasoline prices is killing me. From a cup and half up to two cups and back down again is not good for the blood pressure. Now that the gas prices are down again, I'm driving more. To the coffeeshop.

There's a line in our budget that converts savings to coffee cups. This makes it significantly easier to find coffee cups each month. More specifically, I recently cut out all personal hygiene products. You won't complain too much when that latte is on me, will you?

Clover

This morning, I was accosted by an over-caffeinated Starbucks employee.

"Want to try coffee in high def'?"

"High def'?" I asked.

"Not deaf, as in not hearing," she replied with a giggle.

"Thanks for the clarification."

"It's the best coffee you will ever taste. And it's a single cup brew, so it's extremely hot. Please try it."

I held the small dixie cup, half full of scalding hot coffee from "The Clover." After a few minutes, I tried it. It was good coffee, that's for sure. Is it worth the extra dollar or so? Definitely not. Granted, I didn't take the time to lighten and sweeten as I typically do with my coffee. Therefore, I will probably try it again and most likely pay for it with a gift card.

In the meantime, I will pay less for my version of "basic" coffee while I wait for the HD version to come down in price. Hopefully that will happen before I start to see commercials warning the general public that "basic" coffee will soon be unavailable. Perhaps it will show a countdown in days, minutes, and seconds along with a doomsday picture of cafe patrons looking puzzled as the contents of their coffee cups unexpectedly disappear. "Don't be caught without high def."

Earthy

Earthy (adjective): How the coffeeshop describes my coffee when some of the grinds are floating around. As in, "Full bodied and earthy. Try with a side of our scrumptious cinammon swirl dirt cake."