When I used to work for the high-end kitchen store, I fell in love with a certain espresso machine. On a crowded counter in the back of the store, we had a row of six different demo machines, lined up neatly and standing at attention like sleek metal soldiers waiting for their orders.“Get me through the day!” I’d bark at the first one first thing in the morning. “I need a pick me up!” I’d shout at it later around three in the afternoon. The espresso machine never let me down.
The Boss realized my addiction and somehow thought that free espresso would be enough to keep me there after my four-year buying spree.
“I quit,” I said one day, matter-of-fact. “It’s time for me to go.”
There are only so many times when you can hold a customer’s hand and guide them to just the right vegetable chopper. “It’s called a ‘knife’!” I’d joke with the other salespeople, after I’d rung up the unwieldy and storage-resistant plastic appliance. “If the customers would just buy a simple knife, they wouldn’t need half of this stuff!”“We don’t need half this stuff,” The Husband had said to me the previous night as we surveyed the basement, cluttered with impulse purchases from the high-end kitchen store. “You spend all your earnings there. I think you should get a new job so you can save your money. Who knows, maybe we could even afford a vacation if you stopped buying linen tablecloths and crystal wine glasses.”
When my last day at the high-end kitchen store finally came, I went to the back stock room and came out with an espresso machine. “Is that for a customer?” asked The Boss. “No, it’s for me,” I smiled. I was buying one last souvenir from the Land of The Over-Priced Gadgets.I started using it immediately. “It will save us money,” I explained to The Husband as he tapped his foot impatiently on the kitchen floor. “See? It takes pods. The pods only cost 50 cents. How much do you spend at Starbucks each time? Four dollars?”
I remembered these very words yesterday as I handed the girl a crisp $5 bill. Part of the pod system for this particular espresso machine involved remembering to order the pods from Switzerland when you ran out.“See you again tomorrow, MOV!” chirped the girl in the green apron.
I shook my head. “No, no, I almost always drink my coffee at home,” I corrected her, as if the Caffeine Police might jump out at me at any moment.“See you tomorrow, MOV,” she repeated.
Oh, how wrong she was. She was off the next day when I came in.MOV