So I have settled in at my new job. I can turn on and off the alarm system, I know when to sneak in and use the copier for private purposes, and I have developed my sixth sense to detect when a person is approaching from behind so that I can shut down Facebook and adopt a look of intense concentration.
I know where the best Sushi can be found in the area, which sandwiches are best at the PrisXtra across the street and which features are most treasured by on-line bingo players. So, you could say that I am learning things.
And then there is the coffee. Ah yes, the coffee, the iron core of any IT office. And, being Sweden, the coffee is black and the coffee is strong and the coffee is many. But this new office of mine has taken things to the next level, coffee-wise, with the fantastic space-age bells and whistles Nespresso machine.
It works like this. A little plastic bulb of coffee is inserted into slot A (or slot B). Button C is pressed, options are selected and the bulb is sucked into the bowels of the device and, after some crunching and grunting and squealing, coffee is produced. From spout E.
Now, after all of this mechanical wizardry, you might expect the coffee to be good. Well, it isn’t. It’s awful. And on top of this the thing has to prompted to turn on every morning and milk and water must be inserted into various orifices and plastic tubes attached before any coffee can be produced.
And this is just too damned difficult so early in the morning, before we’ve had our coffee. So now every day a pot of regular coffee, brewed with old-school ground-up beans and hot water, sits innocently next to this monstrosity. And we all drink it, and pretend not to let on that the big shiny kitchen terminator is rubbish.
So maybe soon the management will get the message and get us a pinball table instead. We can only hope.