When I got to work Tuesday morning, I put down my things and proceeded to stumble into the kitchen. My brain had only one thing on its mind: coffee. One of my bosses had already beaten me to the punch and was starting to make a pot–except he couldn’t, because we were out of coffee.
Because neither of us had had coffee yet, we did not yet have the energy to panic. Instead it was a more subdued reaction:
Boss: No coffee.
Me: Check under sink.
Boss: Only decaf.
As you can see, we were reduced to short sentences and guttural utterances. The gears turned slowly in our heads and my boss headed back to his office:
Me: Oh, benevolent leader! Shall I proceed to the nearest grocery establishment and procure some coffee?
Boss: Yes, you shall. Proceed at all haste, and remember to take the money out of petty cash.
Of course the conversation went nothing like that. We hadn’t had our fucking coffee yet silly! Plus, we’re not gay, nor are we European. No conversation actually took place as we had expended our limited supply of words earlier. Instead we communicated silently, our understanding forged through a shared bond of weariness. I pointed toward the petty cash drawer. My boss nodded his head slowly in agreement.
I headed across the street hunched over, but with determination in my morning stumble and proceeded to pick up some coffee. By the time I got back to the office, my boss had summoned enough energy from some secret reserve to sing my praises.
Boss: You are a saint. You got this handled?
Boss: Oh, ok.
Coffee was soon consumed in massive quantities, and I regained my ability to speak, began walking upright, and stopped clubbing women in the office. If you ever do happen to see me before I’ve had my coffee, I apologize ahead of time. As described above, I’m a caveman without my coffee.