There is no column this week. Coffee's to blame — or the lack of it.
To be honest, I was actually upbeat when the coffee machine broke. I looked at the brand-new machine, its lights blinking but unable to excrete a single jot of wonderful java, and I thought: If nothing else, I can get a column out of this.
And the online comments? Oh, they'll be wonderful:
"I had that brand it broke right away cheap crap nothing works anymore Oh well I guess the sheeple will buy anything if its shiny. my daughter bought a steam iron and it broke. I laughed at her and said what do you expect, having hopes and expectations. Ten years without so much as a fathers day card now"
Or: "Well, your first problem was buying a coffee pot. I use a cold-press French infuser that uses osmotic action to saturate the grounds. I get up at dawn and shave individual beans with a rasp so the oils can breathe. Takes two hours to make a cup, but it flatters my self-conception as a special person. No sympathy here!!!"
Or: "Ha ha my wife wanted an espresso machine, but I said if you want something short and bitter just look in the mirror."
So I was intent on cashing in on this opportunity. First step: a call to Customer Support, which is lazy columnist gold. We all hate making those calls, right? Those menus: ridiculous. "To hear these instructions in South Ossian, press 0." Then you're on hold for the rest of the afternoon.
In the old days, our parents took a defective coffeemaker right back to Harold's Appliances on Main Street, walked up to a counter and said, "It broke, Harold." And he just handed them another one. But his store closed when Wal-Mart came in, and Harold set himself on fire on Main Street, shouting, "Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted?" And people just walked past, ashamed, because they'd bought a Mr. Coffee at the Wal-Mart and felt responsible, somehow. On the other hand, Harold's old shop is now a bakery and they have fantastic Cronuts.
