Green Valley Moments

This really isn’t about coffee, and it has little to do with cappuccino. I wanted some coffee while I was in Tucson yesterday morning so I walked into a small deli.

“A large coffee, please,” I requested.

“Would you like coffee or cappuccino?” she responded.

“OK, sure, I’ll have a cappuccino.”

She handed me a cup and pointed me towards a machine in the soft drink area. I took a moment to look it over.

Let’s see. Three flavors, each with a different button. Hmmm. Simple enough.

I put my Styrofoam cup under “French Vanilla” and pressed the corresponding button. The machine made a whirring sound, steam came out from below, but there was no evidence that any product was being delivered.

I’m taller than average, and the machine was low so it was difficult for me to see what might be the problem. I pushed the button again. I let it run a long time. I picked up the cup only to find nothing inside. Anger. Rage.

I muttered under my breath. I blamed the deli for not filling the machine. I blamed the machine.

What kind of engineer would design such a machine?

I found fault with the installation. Don’t they know that someone of even average height can’t press the button and simultaneously stoop low enough to see what’s going on?

Finally, I got my head low enough and saw that while it appeared to me (in a full, upright position) that my cup was under the spigot, in truth, and in fact, it was too far forward and the product (in this case, the cappuccino) was dispensing behind the cup.

I instantly blamed the engineer again.

“Why make the grate that the cup sits on so deep as to allow this to happen?”

I filled my cup finally and looked for a lid. There were none in sight. The counter person pointed me to another area where I found the lids. In fact I found too many lids. They were numbered, “#1, #2, and #3.”

“Where’s the large lids,” I wondered. “I didn’t order a #1, I ordered a large!”

So, I tried a #1 and of course it was too large. “What the hell size cup corresponds to #1,” I thought. I tried #2 next, it fit, and I left.

I found a quiet place and sat for a long time, sipping my cappuccino, and pondering the events which had just occurred. Minutes later, I saw things more clearly. My anger and rage was misdirected to a machine and a nameless engineer. I had refused to accept any of the responsibility. Instead I was too quick to blame others for my ineptitude.

Just push the damn cup all the way to the back!

Aging isn’t a graceful thing, at least not for me. Exposure to anything new and different presents challanges. It troubles me to admit that my mind is slower to react to these new situations, which only a few short years ago were solved quickly and easily. And it’s only going to get worse.

I can’t do much to slow the aging process. What I can do is more readily accept responsibility for my own actions, and not be so hasty to lay fault on the doorstep of others.

This entry was posted on Thursday, February 23rd, 2006 at 7:26 am and is filed under Seniors. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.