Short: Soulless Cups

Little. Cylindrical. Coldly odorless and antiseptic. Its dull gleam quietly speaks of potentially explosive heat, pressure, and explosive consequences as you roll it in your hand. Its little clean lines and faint curves linger in your mind. It is oddly soulless and cold in its beauty.

You might think I'm talking about a bullet. While that description would surely be apt, I am actually describing the ubiquitous K-Cup. If you aren't familiar with these bizarre products, they are single serving pods of coffee. Chamber a "round" into your Keurig coffee-maker, and seconds later, after pushing a button, a single serving of coffee is blasted into your cup in a pre-determined amount which may or may not fill your chosen cup.

I have a problem with these little machines.

"But Pat," you say, "They are so practical! Who needs a whole pot of coffee? Waste not! Instant gratification! Cool modular future stuff! What is not to like?"

I'll tell you what.

Let me take you to a little rotting building. It used to be a bank, and after the bank went out of business, became a government law office. The coffee was "subpar", but it was still coffee and it was cheaper than walking down the road to the local coffee shop. A group of people stand around the coffee pot, waiting while said pot drips its torturous, slow drip. Of course, it would not do to just stand there and look at the pot (unless they are all really fucking tired), so they talk. In fact, it isn't just any talking, since that is such a broad, catch-all term. "Talking" includes everything from pre-coitus dialog to legal argument to hostage negotiation. No, these people aren't just talking.

These people are shooting the shit.

They share all the little details that come together to form the gestalt of life. This person dressed like a hussy. That person just came into some money. My youngest nephew just turned four. I've got this bitch of a theft trial later in the week. I finally got that new chair I've been bothering the boss about for the past two years. That new attorney might be gay.

Somehow, that random sharing of information transforms into something better.

In a weird sense, that impromptu gathering, necessitated by the gurgling pot, starts to feel like the magic spell cast by a campfire. You find yourself drawn to it, starting at it, and enjoying the warmth and community, even if you are not particularly cold. That little bit of inconvenience becomes a great excuse to share your humanity with your fellow man.

In my opinion, it is these little reality pockets that make work bearable.

That is what is missing from K-cups. Everyone gets their single serving and quietly leaves. I don't think it matters how gourmet it is, or how convenient. I look at my 3/4 full cup of coffee and think to myself, "Something is missing... and it isn't just a quarter cup of coffee."

So even though it is more labor-intensive, messier, and not necessarily economical, give me my coffee pot. I need my shit-shootery, my humanity, and hell... I might just need a second cup when I finish the first.