The free coffee at this particular job was pretty bad. Coffee shops were nowhere near as ubiquitous as they are today. I rode a motorcycle to work so a travel mug wouldn't work. The only thermos I trusted to survive on a bike cost over $100, so most days I made do with the caffeinated nastiness they called coffee. Working 60-70 hours a week and working with youth evenings and weekends, I needed the caffeine.
Remember those gift baskets? Included in each was a quart of chocolate covered espresso beans. Since none of the recipients cared for those, they ended up on my desk. around noon I could have kissed my co-workers; they were speaking my love languages-- chocolate and espresso!
These were really good chocolate covered espresso beans. They were practically magical beans, delicious and potent. I'd munch a couple, work on code or documentation, munch a couple, support a customer, munch a couple...
Matthew, Pam, and Angela began to laugh as I typed faster and talked faster to customers. It got to the point I asked what they were laughing about. "You can't type that fast!"
"Huh!" I thought. "Not before now, anyway."
About two o'clock they all came to my cube. "Dude, what are you doing?"
"I'm working! What are you doing? What are you staring at?" I looked down. My hands were off the keyboard, but my fingers were still going a mile a minute, practically a blur. On the desktop.
"Stop that!" I told my fingers. I don't think they even knew I had spoken. I moved my hands off the desk, but found that as I talked they kept moving. I thought if speed freaks I'd known in college, and said so. I spoke too quickly, with far more words than necessary and plenty of stuttering.
Pam started. "Did you eat two whole cans in two hours???" She picked up an empty chocolate covered espresso bean can.
Matthew picked up the other one. "He ate half this one. I'm going to put it in my desk until tomorrow."
"That's probably a good idea," I said. Or thought, anyway. The way it came out was, "Hey! No! Gimme those!"
Pam and Angela blocked the way as Matthew carried the rest of the food of the gods off. Relieved and infuriated, I growled a thanks, sat back down, and returned to thrashing my poor keyboard.
I'd calmed down enough by 6PM they let me ride my motorcycle to dinner.
They were gone when I got back from eating. I was proud of my self control; I had no more magical beans that night.
Mainly because Matthew locked his desk.
Notes
1. Its name was Co-Xist, which is utterly irrelevant to the story so why are you reading this?
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