I opened the kitchen cabinet
door and I spied them. The duo of office coffee cups I used at my two previous
full-time jobs.
The taller, leaner one was
fashioned to look like a glass beaker for measuring liquids. I bought it years ago
at a nearby science museum where I brought my niece and nephew when they were
much younger. So the science theme fits.
The other mirrors a more
traditional ceramic mug emblazed with the face one of my favorite authors from
my English Lit major days, Nathaniel Hawthorne. Admittedly pretentious, I
bought it — where else? — Barnes & Noble. It’s tan and sedate.
The office cup was the first
thing I brought to my job after I was hired. It was the first item packed away
after being laid off.
Now, they sit on my shelf,
never used since I carted them home. Like me, they’re still there, but unlikely
to fulfill their purpose ever again.
I remember when I was hired
again after being out of work for 16 months, I didn’t want to take the same
coffee cup with me to my new job. Genetically superstitious (I blame it on my
Italian heritage), I thought it would bring bad luck. Whatever karma I believed
I would avoid with a different coffee cup was sadly misguided. I was laid off
again.
I don’t know why I keep
them. Why not just trash them (as I was) or recycle them (as I’m hoping to be
in a new job). Maybe I keep them as a reminder.
A reminder of what, I
wonder. Two painful layoffs and extended periods of unemployment. Still-hovering
financial struggles. My fading hope of finding work. Perhaps I simply don’t
want to discard items that could still be useful someday. Too bad potential employers
didn’t view me the same way.
Is there any more depressing
and archaic symbol of office work than the office coffee cup? It’s the first
thing workers grab in the morning, whether in a haughty paper cup from
Starbucks, the ceramic mug on their desk filled with bleak-tasting,
office-brewed coffee, those blue-and-white Greek-styled ones from a food truck
or diner, or, my favorite, the more egalitarian Dunkin Donuts orange-and-pink
version. Sometimes, commuters fill a carafe with coffee so they can drink in
the joe while driving or taking mass transit. I once took a carafe on a light
rail train and spilled it.
Then, at their desks, workers
sip the steaming liquid, simultaneously calmed and jolted for the day presented
before them. It's a comforting ritual, as long as the coffee doesn't spill. Oh, my, how life and coffee can be upended...
Yet sometimes I think I never
want to bring another coffee cup to an office ever again. I'll drink my morning coffee at home.
