First posted: March 29, 2004

Ever since an Ethiopian goat herder noticed his flock got frisky when they ate some berries, coffee has become a way of life. This vile, putrid liquid has become part of modern life, evoking rituals as detailed and intricate as the Japanese tea ceremony. It has spawned the ubiquitous coffee shop, especially the Starbucks variation, which recreate the coffee experience in a mass commoditisation way.

The ceremony itself is simply and oft-repeated each working day. It begins when does that cannot face the working day under their own accord appeal to fellow workers to join in the first run. Often this person calls in on their way into the office to enable the slothful early birds to remain entranced by their computer screens. Each person quickly establishes their "regular" drink, which usually involves a baffling combination of milk, sugar, chocolate or anything else that can disguise the taste of the vile black scum. All important is to quickly abbreviate one's order into the "lingo", including latte, short blacks (for those with no concept of taste), caps, moccas and so on. For the healthy there is the skinny variety, where watery skim milk replaces full cream milk in a vain effort to save one's health.

Once the first run has been consumed it becomes a waiting game for the second run. Finally someone's caffeine addiction overcomes their hesitation and they announce they're off for a coffee. This seems to release the appropriate chemicals in fellow addicts, because suddenly a second coffee becomes a must for everyone. And so the procession continues, several times a day, much in line with the rise in Starbucks' share price. There is a reason the place is named for the boat in Moby Dick - although it seems the boat has overtaken the whale in size.

There can be breaches of etiquette. Should one show enough gumption to go and get a coffee alone, any return to the office will be met with howls of protest from fellow addicts who lament the opportunity to feed their disease. This only has to happen once or twice before this enterprising person learns that being different is a sure recipe for disaster, and they too are quickly dragged into the group coffee run net.

For those of us who despise the stuff this leads to a murky morass of moral dilemmas. To sit out run after run sets us apart from these lesser mortals. In order to enter into the espirit d'corps occasionally we have to shout (i.e. pay) and make the run, substituting hot chocolate or a juice. Instead of enjoying our superior status we need to drag ourselves down to the level of these desperate addicts in an attempt to fit in, to join in with the hoi polloi.

It demeans us but it is the price we have to pay - otherwise I see a diversity training course in my future. I hate coffee.