I’m touchless, touchless, touchless, announces the blinking gray screen on the fancy industrial coffee machine in the corporate cafeteria, cartoonish icons pulsating: espresso, americano cappuccino, cafe au lait, latte, 50/50. I stand dumbly, blinded by choices, holding an empty paper cup in my hand, reading the sign prominently displayed by the sleek stainless steel dispenser. The future of the break room is here, it boldly declares. Bringing touchless coffee to your employees will keep them feeling fueled and safe throughout the day. But I do not feel safe. I feel panicked. I look to the left and right for instructions, how to not touch, but there are none. I search the walls, the bulletin board, pulse quickening. Finally, I place the cup on a platform dispenser, willing it to be filled by my volition alone. But nothing happens. So I lift my forefinger and poke at the screen, uneasily jabbing at a coffee cup with the caption “50/50.” Immediately, hot streams of light and dark liquid pour into the cup from metal straws, the aroma of coffee wafting up. My heartbeat slows, my breath evens out. The screen flickers and a smiley face appears with the words: Touchless Coffee = Happy Employees! As I retrieve the cup and take a sip of coffee, it occurs to me there must be an app. But I do not search for it. Instead, I savor my warm drink, basking in my triumph, happy that I operated the machine, happy that I made contact, happy that I am human. Happy that I am not touchless.
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Clever, interesting and delightful!
This is droll. And how very oddly the machine expresses itself, so unaware of the ironies in its words. I love your simple, human conclusion.