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Hewers of wood

 Young men think old men are fools, but old men know young
men are fools.' 
- George Chapman

     There were new suppliers to the coffee pot. The
chalkboard had been wiped free of  special' quiches and
wholemeal crusty loaves and small paper menus now stood
proudly on the surface of each table. Scrawled in professional
script board paint was a message warning entering customers
that there were now a selection of continental coffees and teas
for your dining pleasure.
     Theresa squinted at the labels of a dozen foil encased
packets on the counter and made a testy clicking sound with
her tongue. The traditional stewed coffee smell clung to the
cloth of the seats and attached itself to anything in range. Like
cigarette smoke it permeated cloths and penetrated into the
skin (it's the genuine coffee oils, T. would explain to enquiring
customers, not that many did enquire for there was a feeling
that to do so would be rude). A recent EC ruling had brought
down the cost of importing luxury items from France,
Germany and Italy, so every coffee shop was now flaunting its
NEW and Quality wares to nonplussed customers. The packet
exclaimed in poorly translated English,  Coffee to enjoy,
sitting on own, reading papers or books, running across fields
naked, or merely at work, ImpCoffeeCo is honoured to
provide you with its finest product for your pleasure and
enjoyment.'.
     "Very swish T.!" Ray exclaimed, "I'll have a cup of
your finest Continental please."
     "I'll just open a pack fresh for you." she looked up and
beamed, "according to the label you'll be running around in
your birthday suit before the day is out."
     "Sounds wonderful! How are you today anyway T.?"
     "Never better, it's a bit of a pain in the bottom, all this
new stuff that him upstairs has brought in, but then again I
always like a bit of variety to keep me from getting bored."
     "Me too T. Me too."

     She cut the seal from a foil packet and there was a
satisfying hiss as the vacuum was breached, then there floated
up a delicate smell of freshly ground coffee beans.

     "Shouldn't you be in the office at the moment?" she
asked.
     "I thought I'd nip out for a quick coffee break, the
smokers get their fifteen minute fag break so I thought I might
as well make the most of the lull. The office is just across the
road in any case."
     "What is it that you actually do Ray, you seem to
spend more time in here than over at the office."
     "I am the on the board of directors of a small financial
advising company, I set the thing up with some of my savings
and a couple of mates over twenty years ago, now I'm in
charge of company strategy and innovation. So it's my job to
muck in when there is a lot of work to clear but mainly to sit
around and think and decide on company policy. I spend time
in here because I find it easy to think in here. I also like the
excellent beverages and company."
     "Well I hope these new coffees are all that they're
cracked up to be. Personally I think that a lot of this  luxury'
stuff is just and excuse to charge more money for the same
stuff."
     Theresa pulled out a clean metal filter from the
dishwasher and shovelled spoonfuls of the black powder into
it before slotting it into the machine and turning it on.

     Ray waited for a second then seeing how busy Theresa
was, asked her to give him a shout when it was ready. She
nodded and he moved to a small table. He rested each elbow
carefully on the tiles and then rubbed his chin and closed his
eyes. Theresa looked up from her work and noticed how feline
he appeared as he sat there, she wondered if he was about to
start purring.

     There had been easier weeks in the office, Raymond
thought. He had been trying to organise the three graduates
which the company had employed the previous autumn. The
interviewing for the positions had been tortuous and in the end
he had compromised with the office manager and taken on the
three most anonymous candidates. The appointments had not
been the qualified success that he had hoped for, the new
employees being a little bit too reliant and prone to idleness.
They had skills which had been invaluable (mostly in their
understanding of those unfathomable computers) but he had
seen documentaries on TV where squirrels seemed to learn
quicker than his staff. It was still early days but he wasn't keen
on hiring any more of these jokers until he could decide how
successful they had been. He also suspected that a couple of
them were looking around for other jobs now that they had a
bit of experience on their CV. Although he thought of himself
as a generous man, he was running a business and not a
training college.
     "Coffee's ready!" called a voice through the blackness.

     He sipped at the black syrup, rolled it around across
his palette, breathed a little through his nose, allowed every
nuance of flavour to be detected and noted in his synapses.
Then he swallowed.
     "Delicate, aromatic, perfumed, maybe even a little
spicy. A success, definitely."
     Theresa drew some of the liquid from her tester cup
and frowned.
     "I think it needs a bit longer, just to let the flavour
percolate."

     Ray smiled and realised that with a tweak here and a
spoonful there, she would be able to turn this wonderful drink
into the stewed tar which the Pot had become famous for. It
was comforting to know that some things don't change.

©1998 Mark Sexton