Lately at the office, we've decided not to buy powdered coffee anymore, but beans coffee, that you need to grind yourself. We have a little grinder, I think a monkey could use it, that's how simple it is ... I mean, how many different ways are there to use a grinder, right?
Yet John, (who's actually not called John but let's call him John for the purpose of this story), looks at me with very intrigued eyes when I explain him where to put the beans and how to turn the little crank.
He finally raises his eyebrows in the air and says;
John: You know what, it's a bit too complicated for me, I think I'll just let you make that coffee in the morning and then have whatever is left in the pot.
... OK, so now my job is to make coffee too?
John has, ever since this conversation, stuck around me every time I'm in the kitchen, and jump on the coffee pot as soon as I made some. He does have the politeness to wait for me to take some first though, amen to that.
Needless to say, he has never cleaned the coffeepot when he finished it. But that would be too much to ask wouldn't it?
