There are many types of gustatory sacrilege in the Midtown life. One of the most egregious, however, is K-cup coffee. I’m not sure why the corporate office scene favors this sort of “coffee” as opposed to the kind that comes from an actual coffee maker or an espresso machine. It is, indeed, very telling of the corporate desire to cut costs wherever it can.
To drink K-cup coffee is to hate yourself. No matter how many times you tell yourself you won’t do it, no matter how bored or in need of a desk reprieve you are, you invariably find yourself back in front of that machine, hoping that somehow it’s going to taste different this time–that it’s actually going to have an effect similar to those of caffeine. So as you stand there watching the powder of the K-cup dispense itself into something that looks vaguely like coffee, you enter a K-hole. A K-hole of shame and self-loathing.