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You know your office is serious about coffee when they have a designated person in charge of the coffee maker. It's like a sacred duty. This person guards the coffee maker with their life, and if you mess with their coffee ritual, you're on their blacklist. I once accidentally used the wrong filter, and you would've thought I insulted their grandma. The coffee czar came up to me like, "What do you think you're doing with that blue filter? We only use the beige ones here!" I had no idea coffee filters had a color code. It's like I stumbled into a secret coffee cult.
And then there's the unwritten rule about making a fresh pot. If you finish the coffee and don't make a new one, you're basically public enemy number one. I've seen more passive-aggressive notes about "coffee etiquette" than I have about any other office issue. Priorities, people!
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My coffee cup has seen things, man. It's been through the highs of that perfect morning brew and the lows of accidentally getting microwaved one too many times. I think my cup is having an identity crisis. It used to be so proud, standing tall on the shelf. Now, it's chipped, faded, and missing its handle. I tried to buy a new cup once, thinking it was time for an upgrade. But no, my old cup revolted. It was like, "You think you can just replace me? After all we've been through?" Now I have two cups, and they both give me judgmental looks every morning.
I'm starting to think my coffee cups are plotting against me. They've formed an alliance, and every time I reach for a cup, they exchange knowing glances. I'm just waiting for the day they organize a rebellion, and I wake up to find my kitchen taken over by a coffee cup uprising. It's the only logical explanation for the chaos in my caffeine-filled life.
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You ever notice how every office has that one coffee cup that everyone claims as their own? It's like a coffee cup turf war. People are ready to throw down over a mug with "World's Best Boss" on it like it's some kind of sacred relic. I once accidentally took someone else's cup, and you would've thought I committed a federal offense. The guy came up to me like, "Hey, that's my cup, man!" I'm thinking, "Dude, it's not like I stole your firstborn. It's just a cup. But no, he looked at me like I kicked his puppy."
So now I've learned my lesson. I bring my own cup to work, and I guard it like it's the Holy Grail. I've even thought about putting my name on it in big, bold letters, just so there's no confusion. But then I realized, if someone is desperate enough for my coffee cup, they'll probably just start calling themselves "John" or whatever my name is.
It's a coffee cup, people! Can we all just chill and caffeinate in peace?
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I've been trying to cut down on my caffeine intake lately. You know you have a coffee addiction when your coffee cup has a more interesting social life than you do. My cup's been to more places than I have – it's been to board meetings, break rooms, and it's even had a brief stint in the dishwasher. I can't say the same for myself. I tried switching to decaf, thinking I'd be all zen and laid back. But no, my body rebelled. It was like, "What is this watered-down nonsense you're trying to pull, buddy?" Now, I'm stuck in this weird limbo between needing coffee to function and fearing the caffeine-induced heart palpitations.
And don't get me started on those fancy coffee shops. I walked into one the other day, and the barista starts listing off all these exotic coffee blends with names I can't pronounce. I just wanted a small coffee, not a linguistic challenge. Give me the "I Just Woke Up" blend, please.
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