Ode to Flavia

My morning routine is pretty...routine. Nothing exciting there, but every morning on a weekday, as I stroll off the elevator on to Floor Four I make a beeline away from the receptionist's desk, away from where my desk and work await me, and head to a small kitchen toward the center of my floor, to the Flavia Coffee Machine. Let me back track here to my first encounter with beautiful Flavia. It was Day 2 on the job and I was eyeing Flavia, alone in that kitchen, admiring her fine craftsmanship, the way her many flavors of coffee and frothy treats were so tidy, all in drawers of their own. I counted: 18 coffees, teas, frothy treats. Keep in mind that my company in Arizona forced to you purchase your own coffee every day (suckers) and now I have Flavia.

Since that Day 2, I've been visiting Flavia faithfully each and every morning. Sometimes I turn the corner and duck my head into that small kitchen to find others visiting her, perhaps using all of her cream and sugar. Occasionally, the cups are gone and I'm left to scrounge about for a clean cup, another styrofoam. Flavia has introduced me to several coworkers. I judge every person I meet by what Flavia Flavor they have chosen. There was the time I stood there as my Hazelnut was brewing fresh and I tapped absently on the top of Flavia, tap, tap, tap. Behind me, the art director for our building commented.

"Oh, my, that smells wonderful," she said.
"Yes, it's my FAVORITE," I said. Was that pride in my voice? And what makes me a hazelnut woman?
"Hmmmm," she said. This is weird, I thought. And then:
"I'm Joanna," I said. (And no, I didn't say, "Call me Jo." Hardy har har.)
"I'm Andrea."
"What do you have?"
"Espresso. Straight up. Double," she declared. I nearly trembled in fear. That's hard core.
"Oh, uh...every day?"
"Yes, EVERY DAY," she said.

Then there's always the times when I'm with Flavia and a group strolls in, like their going to the club on a Friday night and lost their way. Damnit! We're in the kitchen again! Or when someone's trying to get into the fridge, and I'm just trying to reach Flavia and I accidentally rub against them on the way to Her. Awkward. I just want my hazelnut. And the time when I was hanging out with Flavia in the afternoon and the HR woman came in and posted a note on the machine. "For XXXX employees only," it read. Our eyes met. "It's hard to be a nazi," she said, and left the room fast.

People would battle for Flavia. Cross HR boundaries, let the lines blur between companies and floors, forge names and stay up late into the night to create fake badges. Start leaving their lunch in that shitty little refrigerator just to be close to Her. Swap their red swingline stapler just for a mere sip, a warm cup in their hand.