When the Coffee Machine Breaks, Life Ceases to Be Worth Living
4th June 2017
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.
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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.