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Some time ago I was visiting my in-laws, and had to learn how to make coffee all over again.

The thing is, living in Seattle, and having a daughter who’d worked at a, shall we say, ‘Moby Dick’ sized  purveyor of coffee (therefore getting me the beans at a lower price than normal) I’d gotten quite used to grinding my own beans, brewing my own coffee, and knowing what I’d get in the end.

It wasn’t scientific perfection I was after, it was simple things, like knowing how much water to put in (until it looked right), and how much coffee to put in (until it looked right), and then letting it brew (until it dissolved any spoon used to stir it) and then it WAS right.

But their coffee maker was different, and at the time, I don’t think there was a Starbuck’s anywhere near there.

I tried to make coffee using their little coffee maker, and did manage to succeed at that, but the next step was so remarkably unsuccessful that I could do nothing but stand there and wonder what had gone wrong.

In trying to pour coffee into a mug (note: you shouldn’t need a degree in physics or thermodynamics to do this) – I managed to pour it all over the counter.

At first, I just thought I’d just missed, but later tried it again, and realized that the lip of the coffee pot was bent in such a way that instead of the coffee shooting out toward the cup, a good part of it would actually shoot backward under the coffee pot as I was pouring it – and miss the mug entirely.

And I’d have almost a third of the coffee on the counter, not in the cup.

Day after day I tried to fix this, pouring faster, slower, different angles, aiming at different spots in the cup – didn’t matter, it just poured out onto the counter, and I’d clean it up.

One day, my father in law walked up and watched with mild amusement while I was trying once again to pour a mug of coffee.  This was the guy who’d made coffee with this crazy little coffee maker for years, and I figured that over that time, he must have found some sort of secret way to do this right.  So that morning, out of just a touch of frustration, I asked him, “How on earth do you pour this without getting it all over the counter?”

And the answer was simultaneously simple, basic, and brilliant.

“I just pour it over the sink.”

You… just…

What?!

And he showed me.

He poured the coffee into his cup, and it spilled just about as much as it did when I poured it –but he did it over the sink, and while it spilled, it didn’t get on the counter.

And it made me think about the question I was asking and the problem I was trying to solve.

Which was more important?

Getting coffee into the mug?

Or keeping it off the counter?

Because if I could solve one of the problems (getting a decent amount of coffee into the mug) while keeping it off the counter, I could effectively solve both problems at once.

And if spilling a little coffee was irrelevant, then the problem was solved.

You could substitute anything for the two options there, and in this case, a simple solution that didn’t even cross my mind solved all the problems I was concerned with at once.

It was a win-win…

I got the coffee I wanted, I kept the counter clean, and I learned a lot about solving problems from a little off the cuff comment from my father in law Bruce.

Back before all this espresso craze hit the country – in the age of dinosaurs – well, back when the oil in the gulf was still dinosaurs – I remember thinking that this whole espresso thing was just so stupid. I mean, I remember going into a place and asking for a cup of coffee, and they’d run down the a simple list for me.  Black? Cream? Sugar?

It was simple… Clear… Concise…

I was used to all that.

I liked it.

And then, it changed…(cue the dramatic, ominous music…)

I’d ask for a cup of coffee and they’d throw all these Italian words at me that made absolutely no sense whatsoever…

Venti? Macchiato? Frappucino? El Dorado? – no, wait, that’s Spanish…

Anyway, it was just tons of what I thought was idiocy, I just wanted a cup of coffee, you know, the kind where you find some berries, pit them, throw the berries away, dry, then burn the pits, smash them between some rocks, and then pour hot water over what’s left until the water turns brown.

You know… Simple… Clear… Concise…

<ahem>

WHOEVER came up with that whole concept was either a genius or… well, one of Rube Goldberg’s ancestors…

All I wanted was coffee…

Wait… let me rewrite that…

All… I… Wanted… Was… COFFEE.

Until the day someone bought me this…

…this …

…this creamy, heavenly mixture of coffee, foamed milk, and chocolate.

Ooooohhhh wow….

I remember the first time I pulled into an espresso stand – it had been a Fotomat booth years before – and was out in the middle of a parking lot.  I remember the car seemed to just drive itself into that parking lot.

…and I suddenly understood what addictions could be like….

I didn’t *need* a cup of coffee, but I *WANTED* a mocha.

Oh, man…

I’d grown up – oh – how to describe this right…  We weren’t swimming in money to the point where we needed life preservers – in fact, galoshes would have been overdoing it…  Come to think of it – a damp spot in the sidewalk would have been a better description of the finances I’d grown up with.

There was a tremendous difference between a “want” and a “need”.

Wants were optional.

Needs weren’t.

And for once in my life, I *wanted* something far more than I needed it, and I was about to act on that want…

Never had I scrounged around the seats for loose change unless I needed it.

But I did this day.

Never had I gone through the glove box for change unless it was necessary.

But I did this day.

And never had I put all the “emergency” money in the car to a single use that wasn’t an emergency.

But the definition of “emergency,” like it or not, was about to be redefined, and sometime later – I learned that this whole thing was just the beginning…

I worked at Microsoft for a few years, where they had a Starbuck’s inside one of the cafeterias – and I had no idea how to order anything other than “coffee” or the heavenly “Mocha”.

But there was this guy working there who had the job title “barista”, and he helped me out.

And I realized after a while that I could customize this whole thing… I could have more or less of something in there than is required by law, so to speak…

One day he did something weird – he made it really creamy – so that it wasn’t just milk and foam, but kind of a foamy mixture all the way through.  Somehow this involved banging the milk foamer thingie (they get paid to know this stuff, I don’t) on the counter, which somehow made the foam thicker.  It was wonderful – so we decided to go with that.

I realized I didn’t like quite as much mocha – or chocolate syrup – in  there (they put three pumps worth, which was a little too much for me) – and over the next few weeks, this barista and I figured out what it was I liked. (one pump)

It takes me a long time to decide what I like, but once I’ve decided, then that’s pretty much it.  So once we’d come up with what it was I liked, I didn’t have to think about it anymore.

And when I went to get my coffee (understand, getting coffee was free at Microsoft at the time, I was choosing to pay for it, and given my growing up, that was significant) – and I’d get the same thing, every day.  In fact, it got to the point where I didn’t even order it anymore, I’d just show up and it would be there – and I’d pay for it, we’d make small talk, and then I’d leave…

…with my little paper cup of heaven…

And then…

One day…

He was gone.

A new barista who didn’t know what I wanted was there.

I was stunned.

I had no idea how to order this – this… this paper cup full of dark, foamy heaven…

I was crushed.

No more heaven in a paper cup.

Shortly after that, I left Microsoft, and had to figure out how on earth to order this thing in the real world…

And over time, I was able to get a barista to explain to me how to order what it was that I wanted.

So when I got my next job, I went to the Starbucks across the street from work, and I ordered it the way I’d been told to order it.

(ready for this?)

“I’d like a double tall one pump mocha free pour wet cappuccino”

And I said it with a straight face.

Which was followed immediately by a look of total shock on that straight face.

“Oh my gosh,” thought I…

“I’m one of….. ‘THEM’”

The cashier dutifully filled out the little boxes on the paper cup

The Barista, who was juggling cups – stopped and looked over at me, got the order, and made the drink.

It was perfect.

Clearly I had to come back.

The next day – I wandered in with my buddy and we each ordered our drinks… He ordered a hot chocolate.  I ordered a double tall one pump mocha free pour wet cappuccino…

Same barista…

He stopped what he was doing and looked at me with one eyebrow raised…

You could clearly see in his eyes, “Oh oh, one of ‘those…’”

But I wasn’t “one of ‘those’” – although I sure as heck sounded like it….

I was just stunned that I could order the fool thing with a straight face, and I told them that.

They laughed…

Next day – I came in – and Stevie, same barista was there, Annie was there wearing out a Sharpie filling out all the little boxes on the cup (it fills all but one of them), LaRae was riding shotgun, and I didn’t even get a chance to say anything.

I walked up, Stevie saw me coming, and said, “I know… Yadda Yadda Yadda…”

And from there on out – it became known in the Fremont Starbuck’s store as a “Yadda Yadda Yadda”

I’d left that job, and hadn’t been in there for a long time… I wasn’t sure what the typical employee turnover had done to the institutional memory there, but for a long time after I left, you could order a Yadda Yadda Yadda, any way you wanted, you could order a decaf or a nonfat Yadda Yadda Yadda, heck, you could have them fill out all the boxes on the cup and order a half caf, half decaf Yadda Yadda Yadda – it was fun.  The Fremont Starbucks was the coffee equivalent of “Cheers” – and to Annie, LaRae, Stevie, and the other baristas at the Fremont store – thank you – for making it such a special place back then.

A while back I went in with a friend, and like I said, hadn’t been there in a long time, and one of the same baristas was still working there.

She saw me, her eyes lit up, and she said, “Oh! Oh! I remember, it was a Yadda Yadda Yadda…”

It was…

And it still is…

“Yes… Caffeine headaches are SOOO much worse than your coffee”

 – My daughter, who works at Starbucks, when she came over this morning and I offered to make her a cup.

(I’ve been known to make coffee that spoons would stand up in for a couple of seconds before they melted)

Sigh…

: )

Tom Roush

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