To: the Guy at the coffee shop who presumed he could teach me how to make better coffee.
Besides the fact that you have not tasted my coffee, nor I yours, there is another matter about your presumptuousness that
- I have something to learn about making coffee, and
- You are the one to teach me.
What if we don’t like our coffee the same way? Do you mean to imply that there is some objective standard for what counts as good coffee?
If so, my good friend from Colombia would take issue with almost everything that passed for “good” coffee in the US.
If so, why can Whataburger and other places still sell so much coffee that is watery and has been sitting on a hotplate for 3+ hours?
There must be some thing, or some things about the qualifier “good,” as it relates to coffee, that leaves it, to a varying degree, to the taste buds of the one drinking the coffee.
For those of you afraid (or convinced) I am about to pop proof of the absolutely relative nature of life into this analogy and throw my hands in the air spiritually and say we’ve all got our own path or some such rot, please stay with me.
What this analogy means, rather, is that taste is like one’s spiritual life. It is never so simple as can be assessed, defined, and prescribed flippantly based on less than one minute’s conversation.
Now, please excuse me; I am off to drink coffee with some friends.
A guy walks into a coffee shop. This guy was me and I wanted coffee. I buy whole bean and grind it at home for my french press. I’m a coffee “fan.” Guy who works at the coffee shop offers to teach me how to make better coffee. I wonder, “Who is he to teach […]
I like coffee. I like making coffee.
So maybe you can imagine how difficult it was for me to learn last Saturday that I don’t make very good coffee.
I’m sure the young man to told me so has a different version of this story. I expect he would say he was merely trying to be helpful. In fact, the course he teaches in how to make good coffee is free, so he was not trying to make any money off of me
I think I can get a couple of posts out of this, but, for now, here’s what happened:
I was at a local coffee shop, getting beans for home use. When asked if I would like them ground, I replied, “No, thanks, I have a grinder and grind them as I need them.”
The very helpful young man serving me responded with an invitation to come to his class where he would teach me how to make better coffee.
As I was sharing this story with my brother Rob, with whom I share a deep appreciation for coffee, I went on a little rant about “who was he to insult my coffee and/or my coffee-making abilities?”
Then I made what I’m going to call the “Jesus leap.” I reversed positions with the coffee shop employee when I realized, aloud, that my job could be described as doing with other people’s souls what he had done with my coffee-making ability.
Who am I to tell you I can help you take better care of your soul?