My Nemesis: Mr. Coffee

I have been drinking coffee since I was 12. Right around the same time, I began playing hockey. And although I haven’t played in years, I can probably still fire a puck 70 mph into a 2-foot-by-2-foot section of a net from 30 feet away. What I am getting at is that I don’t have bad hand-eye coordination, and I am no stranger to the consumption of the Dark Liquid.

But every morning, when I get into the newsroom, I prepare myself for a duel. The opponent: Mr. Coffee. No matter how much I try, if the pot is full, I dribble coffee down the side onto the counter.

Every time.

I have even begun keeping a roll of paper towels in the break room to clean it up afterward. It’s gone from annoying to embarrassing to downright comical. One day, I even poured a cup without trickling a thin stream down the side of the pot. I was so excited by this display of prowess that my hand shook and I spilled anyway.

Well Mr. Coffee, I’ve got news for you: you aren’t perfect. Your reign of terror has come to an end. I’ve got your number now. I know that I can beat you. The tide has shifted.

The other day, I poured a cup of coffee without spilling any of it. I stood in the break room basking in the dim sunlight for a moment. And for the first time since I have worked at the T-R, the day’s first sip of coffee didn’t taste bitter.

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