Here I am, on the other side of the planet running away from a coffee machine...
When it appeared in my life nobody, especially not me, knew how evil that little thing could be.
***
I entered a room smiling in anticipation of a new adventure. New client, new teammates, a new gig for my company - or more like a one-man-orchestra trying to make it big - it was going to be AMAZING! The room was buzzing: a brainstorm in one corner, a presentation in another, important guests expected - it was full of life and excitement. I was welcomed warmly and offered a cup of coffee. That was the first time I met it… - the Coffee Machine.
I didn’t pay it much attention, at the end of the day, it was just an appliance. It was there to serve people. Looking back at it now - I couldn’t be more wrong.
The first days went great. I met everyone, got to know the rhythm and how things roll, I was ready to become a real part of it. But the more time I spent there, the more I noticed something was odd.
After a couple of weeks, I realized it was the Coffee Machine who ran the place not the people. And it was dictating its own rules. When we had guests over it would suddenly stop working and demand our full attention. Refilling water and coffee beans, emptying the trays, and providing other services to it became the second job for my teammates. Back then it was only two and I could see the Coffee Machine was celebrating its victory every time those two got into a fight over whose turn it was. Slowly but surely it was enslaving them.
***
A month or more went by, I was no longer seen as a guest, and my two teammates decided it was time for me to join their pack of ‘grateful servants’ of the Coffee Machine. I was very open with them and said ‘thanks, but no thanks’.
I had strong grounds to refuse their ‘invitation’. I started living on my own very early to run away from a home tyranny. I studied and accomplished way more than was expected to move countries and escape the injustice of my own. I built, failed and rebuilt my own business from scratch knowing nothing about it… and I was not about to become a slave of an office appliance created to serve people.
Without realizing it, I declared a war to the Coffee Machine and its army.
***
Some months passed with a quiet disregard from each side. I got my coffee from a coffee bar, my teammates kept serving the Machine. In the meantime, my client put me in charge of one important occasion when I was to host over fifty people. And I knew what that meant: they would all want coffee.
My enemy camp was celebrating an early victory: there was no way I could do it without them and their mean Coffee leader. At least that was what they thought. I did try to look for their support but was faced with unsurprising indifference.
I am not the one to give up so easily. After some mind cracking, I found a way. For a day I hired a barista - the Master of all coffee machines - with his own coffee suite. A solution so brilliant and yet so simple.
The Coffee Machine servants did not see it coming. Just as I suspected, I must have cracked something in their matrix. After seeing how easily I escaped Coffee Machine slavery, one of my teammates had a meltdown. And for the next eight month, I heard nothing of her.
***
To replenish the loss in the team and input some new healthy minds, my client found new people. I welcomed them, took each out for a coffee in the coffee bar and shared my ideology. They seemed very excited about the idea of coffee-freedom and offered their support.
But while I was not there they all got initiated into the Coffee Machine slavery. Now they all shared the ‘re-filling and emptying’ duties, regularly debating whose turn it was and why. Needless to say, they had very little time for anything else. Their minds and bodies were enslaved. The Coffee Machine was celebrating.
And so it continued.
***
As I’m sitting in a little cafe where the coffee is still made in a small metal pot on a simple old stove, thousand miles away from them, I’m thinking of how it all began…
Similar to the story of Frankenstein, for every monster, there is a creator. Ironic as life is, the meltdown-teammate was the one who chose and insisted on getting what became an evil Coffee Machine. Before there was a meltdown or a team. She wanted to have it all - Americano, latte, cappuccino, and other fancy-named drinks. Instead of going for a simple thing that makes a good old cup of coffee.
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