Every morning a new hope dawns upon my caffeine buds. A new ray of optimism, that something rewarding, something pure will run down that machine.
But then, hope is a dangerous thing after all. The vending machine, howsoever jazzy it is in my department, with those oh-so-designer paper cups falling elegantly to a touch screen command – still falls short of expectations. An exciting cuppa koffie at sharp 8 AM is so so imperative to kick start the day. To build up a pier of faith in yourself – that I deserve this!
But no, its a humble morning as always. I agree with the dude who thought expectations are preconceived resentments. I have started focusing on lowering any prospects that might even hint towards hoping for a better koffie from that dark machine. I call it Expectations Evaporation. I think I’l file a patent for this term. Sounds cool.
The most challenging part is that the number of koffies I have per day is directly proportional to the number of meetings. You just pulled a chair to initiate a random process discussion or maybe just took off the cap of the colorful marker to start off with some arbitrary graphs on the white board and you hear the fellow – “koffie? koffie?” Wow! another one? I just had 2 in the last hour. Two half hour meetings you see. But no, I won’t give in. It can’t be rude trying to save your exclusive caffeine tracks from the not-so favorable not-so-java hot beverage!
“Nee, dank u well.” I say
“Soup then?” comes the follow up question.
“Ummm….No, not really.” [A chill runs down my spine thinking of the tomato puree mixed with some sort of milk powder]
“Warme chocolade maybe?”
“Noooo!!” [I miss bournvita]
“Ok, lets start off with the meeting then”
“NO!!..uH, YES, Sure” [Finally]
And a few chitchats till a similar conversation is initiated yet again, an hour later. The stage is different, the characters have changed…but the plot remains the same…
Sometimes I miss the chai wala at the thela outside the G office back home. I mean, I miss that chai. The one he must be still warming in that vessel he washed a decade back. It had its own charm. I think it was circumstantial too. Those moments were synonymous with what I call chimney chats – just vent out, let the smoke out. Can be about work or the boss or the not-so-much-of-a boss, or about love of food. Anything. It doesn’t happen here. Its a different bonding at this place. For instance its my tacit turn now to grab that cost saving cup holder, stroll around the corridoor, peep into each room and ask ‘wilt u drinken?’Wat?’
Its a healthy to-do. Atleast for mingling around. Anyways, here I come Mr. Vending. Nothing is permanent, you will also change, one fine day.