When I started working as a designer straight after college, I was fortunate enough to get a real design job in London, at a real design company.
It was exhilarating, thrilling and the fruition of a dream of mine for many years. And one of my clearest memories of my first day was realizing how much everyone in the studio drank coffee. I saw it as a low barrier to becoming a designer.
As strange as it seemed to some, coffee had never had much draw for me as a student. I found the taste too bitter and had on occasion given me headaches.
While standing in the small kitchen at my new design studio, I watched as cup after cup of the sticky black stuff got guzzled down. I then said to myself, “Well shit, I better start drinking coffee too!”
And so I did.
I became a frequent visitor to Pret A Manger, in Islington, and ordered a small mocha (and occasionally a chocolate croissant) every day. It’s still my favourite order.
But now, after nearly eight years of steady, determined, caffeine hydration (an oxymoron since it’s a diuretic), I’m calling it quits. I’m done. I’m on the wagon. I’m going cold turkey.
Ok. So maybe not completely cold turkey. More like room temp. turkey. But god damn it I’m addicted to the stuff. Somewhere along the way, I stopped drinking the stuff because I liked it, and started drinking it purely out of habit. Out of need and out of a lack of imagination. I like to have something warm in the morning, so like a weirdo, I’m starting to consider drinking soup next.
The worst part was that since I had trained my body to drink it each morning and afternoon, on the weekends when I didn’t get regular access to it, I wound up with a stinking headache by around 2pm. Around New Year, I figured this madness has got to stop.
So, it’s been a dramatic two weeks of caffeine reduction and it’s going well. I don’t know if I would have called it an extreme addiction, as some other fellow designers I’ve met, but my frequent headaches were definitely a sign of chemical withdrawal. And that’s just crap.
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One other coffee memory now comes to mind, as I finish the post.
I was in New York for my first time when I was in the middle of college (in England). I was completely enamored and enthralled by the sheer energy of the city. I loved it. And when I had a chance to get some time to walk around on my own, I got it in my head that I really wanted to ‘order an espresso’ like I imagined all New Yorkers did! I still don’t know many Americans that even like espresso.
So I found myself a small coffee shop and sheepishly ordered an espresso and a muffin trying to be terribly New-York-centric and grown up. What a twat. I sipped my chic espresso and immediately got a massive headache. I tried to sweeten my palette with the muffin, but realized I had ordered a bran muffin! Argh! My headache continued to swell for the rest of the day.
I realize now how my I’ve held such a strong romantic image of coffee in my mind for so long. And now it’s got to stop.
So…
I’m done. I’m calling it quits. I’m on the wagon.
Soup is the new Black (coffee).
