The Coffee Journey

Wishing it Were Summer

Ben looked out his office window.

The change back to Standard Time from Daylight Saving Time was bad enough, but he couldn’t decide if it was the time change or the cooler temperatures that bothered him more.

Along with being slightly off kilter about the time of day, coupled with the cold, the gray skies were winning the battle against the sun. Ben’s world was stuck in a dullness that wouldn’t let any of the remaining fall colors bring happiness.

Noticing the street in the distance, the pavement embraced the grayness of the day letting Ben know that there was moisture in the air.

“Doesn’t look like it’s raining,” Ben pondered, and he took his phone out of his pocket. Opening one of eight weather apps he had on his phone, Ben landed on the radar page.

“Hmm, looks like some sprinkles just came through. Guess I won’t need my umbrella.”

He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and to the right, and with a quizzical look on his face, “Do I even still have my umbrella in the car?”

It didn’t matter, though, because today was just one of those gray, midwestern, fall days where most of the leaves had already fallen off of the trees, and for many, including Ben, the doldrums of getting to the holiday season had begun.

The clock showed that it was coming up on 11 AM, time for Ben’s lunch. As he continued to look out the window into the distance, he remembered the summer, and how he intended to lose twenty pounds. Ben’s pants were still a little too tight, similar to the beginning of the summer, and when he would sit down, the gaps between the buttons on his shirt would open a smidge to reveal the portly belly that Ben was constantly trying to remove.

“Too bad I couldn’t get one more walk in,” he sighed.

Even though summer didn’t result in new pants, Ben reflected back, thinking about the walks in the warmer weather, and how much he enjoyed them. He knew he could still go for a walk in the park, and he would be less sweaty and gross with the cooler weather, but the vibrancy of the park had departed for the year. The youngsters were back in school, and the life of summer was quickly dying away.

A slight knock rapped on Ben’s open door. In walked John, “You got a minute?”

“Sure,” Ben softly replied, knowing that it was never just a minute with John.

If there was anything Ben hated more, it is being delayed for lunch, always doing his best to walk out his door at exactly 11AM.

He realized quickly that this wasn’t going to be achievable today.

The pleasantries from John shifted to work talk about some projects John wanted Ben to complete. As John changed the conversation from work to retelling a story of his son’s baseball game, Ben started zoning out as he often did, in his head figuring it was about three or four months ago that he heard the same story from John.

John had a habit of telling Ben the same stories, many times, over and over, sometimes on the same day. Ben was too nice to interrupt with a comment similar to, “Oh yea, you mentioned this a while ago.”

Instead, in these instances, Ben sat and listened, well, sat and pretended to listen, again and again, all the while thinking, “So much for getting out on time for lunch.”

Forty minutes later John took a pause, and Ben heard, “Oh, you’re trying to get out of here for lunch, aren’t you?”

Ben grunted, “Yea, eventually.”

“Okay, I won’t keep you any longer.”

Fifteen minutes later John wrapped up whatever story he was telling and left Ben’s office. Ben grabbed his coat, turned off his office light, and started walking down the hallway, taking a look at his watch.

“A minute,” he mumbled under his breath.

It was 11:55AM.

Ben made his way to the lunchroom, opened the staff refrigerator, grabbed his lunch-bag, and made his way down the hallway to leave the office.

As Ben got to the door that led to the parking lot, he pushed it open. A gust of wind grabbed the door trying to slam it against the building. Ben was able to hold onto the door, saving it from what he figured would be total destruction.

“I’ll bet no one else ever tries to stop the door,” Ben thought.

While walking to his car, the wind cut right through his jacket, and a slight mist started pelting Ben’s face.

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