Wednesday, 9:32 AM: My office has been very welcoming from day one; however, being the only American in the office there have inevitably been a few missteps. My inability to attend the daily coffee breaks has been one of these stumbles.
On my first day, I was told by one of the women in the office that they have a few coffee and candy breaks during any given day and that I should join. Heartened by the invite, I told them I’d love to. Days passed and I never saw evidence of any coffee breaks. Thinking the week was just too busy for breaks, I wrote it off.
Finally, mid week, one of the attorneys came into my cavernous conference room-cum-office and asked me why I didn’t want to join them for coffee. Confused, I told them I’d love to join them for coffee. She informed me that the office has been having their regular two coffee breaks a day completely and wholly unbeknownst to me. I told her that since I’m in my own office with the door shut (they keep shutting it) and with no view of the rest of the office out of my sliver of a window that stares into the hallway I was unaware of any coffee break.
Worried that I was coming across as rude or puritanical or a stereotypical all-work-no-play American, I asked that she knock on my door the next time they have coffee. The response was that I should just come over when they have coffee.
At this point I am left with a near compulsory invite—an invite that I want to accept—to an event that happens without my knowledge. Outside of demanding the office call me Yossarian, I didn’t quite now what to do.
Last Friday at about 5 PM, one of the other staff attorneys came into my office and dropped a flimsy plastic bag of three macaroons on my desk saying “these were yours if you would come to coffee with us.” Again, I tried in vain to explain that I wanted to join them, but being held in captivity in my own isolated office made it difficult to know when these coffees were happening. My plea for more information regarding the coffee breaks went unheeded and with an exhausted look my coworker wished me a good weekend.
It is now Monday of week two, and I am determined to find these coffee breaks and drink so much coffee and talk about so much coffee break related topics it will blow the office’s collective mind. Even if it takes me getting up to “use the restroom” every 30 minutes to scour the halls for these ubiquitous yet closeted coffee breaks, so be it. Having the office believe that I have an untreated bladder problem seems like a small price to pay to no longer come across as rude and unappreciative.
This week, I will be having coffee with the office.
Update Wednesday 12:48 PM: Leaving my door more cracked than usual, I had my ear to the hallway hoping I would hear signs of coffee drinking and office chatter. Finishing a section on a rousing memo about pretrial detention alternatives, I heard laughter from across the hall. Excited, I leapt into action and casually walked down the hallway as if I were getting more hot water for my tea. Peering into the office where I have heard these coffee breaks are held, there was no one. I grabbed my hot water from down the hall and headed back. At that point, the interim director appeared at that very same office’s door and she asked me how my weekend was. As I told her about my time in the city, I noticed in her hand a small piece of china with an accompanying saucer. In that cup were the remnants of what was likely a caffeinating and delicious Armenian Coffee. I had been foiled again. I arrived accordingly and the coffee break, like a mirage, disappeared as I approached. I know in my heart that these coffee breaks are real. Like the Siren’s Song, the next time I hear an increase in feminine giggling and guffaws I will allow it to guide me to the next coffee break. I swear it.
Update Wednesday 4:27 PM: They were quieter this time, but thinking that 4:15 was a good time for coffee I began my round of the office. Finding one attorney making tea on her own, we spoke for a moment about an event at the Embassy but no mention of a coffee break. As I made my way back to my office, I peered into the office where these elusive breaks are allegedly held. On the table sat a few small plates sprinkled with crumbs of what were likely delicious petits fores or macaroons. Damn it! Like the unicorn, capturing the coffee break moment remains impossible. Next time.
Update Thursday 3:00 PM: Undoubtedly I wanted this tragicomedy to continue if for no other reason the comedic value. However, I am both sad and jubilant that I finally got in on one of these coffees. Served Armenian coffee and handed a bunch of dried Armenian dates I enjoyed the company of my coworkers and sat pleased in the odd sense of satisfaction I felt. Hopefully this hard fought success will soften my image around the office and ingratiate myself to my colleagues.
I now have a hard road ahead. Once coffee break wont be enough, I need to remain vigilant to attend these office bonding sessions. After nine days of working in this office, I've made one small step, undoubtedly there will be more with plenty of stumbles along the way.
On my first day, I was told by one of the women in the office that they have a few coffee and candy breaks during any given day and that I should join. Heartened by the invite, I told them I’d love to. Days passed and I never saw evidence of any coffee breaks. Thinking the week was just too busy for breaks, I wrote it off.
Finally, mid week, one of the attorneys came into my cavernous conference room-cum-office and asked me why I didn’t want to join them for coffee. Confused, I told them I’d love to join them for coffee. She informed me that the office has been having their regular two coffee breaks a day completely and wholly unbeknownst to me. I told her that since I’m in my own office with the door shut (they keep shutting it) and with no view of the rest of the office out of my sliver of a window that stares into the hallway I was unaware of any coffee break.
Worried that I was coming across as rude or puritanical or a stereotypical all-work-no-play American, I asked that she knock on my door the next time they have coffee. The response was that I should just come over when they have coffee.
At this point I am left with a near compulsory invite—an invite that I want to accept—to an event that happens without my knowledge. Outside of demanding the office call me Yossarian, I didn’t quite now what to do.
Last Friday at about 5 PM, one of the other staff attorneys came into my office and dropped a flimsy plastic bag of three macaroons on my desk saying “these were yours if you would come to coffee with us.” Again, I tried in vain to explain that I wanted to join them, but being held in captivity in my own isolated office made it difficult to know when these coffees were happening. My plea for more information regarding the coffee breaks went unheeded and with an exhausted look my coworker wished me a good weekend.
It is now Monday of week two, and I am determined to find these coffee breaks and drink so much coffee and talk about so much coffee break related topics it will blow the office’s collective mind. Even if it takes me getting up to “use the restroom” every 30 minutes to scour the halls for these ubiquitous yet closeted coffee breaks, so be it. Having the office believe that I have an untreated bladder problem seems like a small price to pay to no longer come across as rude and unappreciative.
This week, I will be having coffee with the office.
Update Wednesday 12:48 PM: Leaving my door more cracked than usual, I had my ear to the hallway hoping I would hear signs of coffee drinking and office chatter. Finishing a section on a rousing memo about pretrial detention alternatives, I heard laughter from across the hall. Excited, I leapt into action and casually walked down the hallway as if I were getting more hot water for my tea. Peering into the office where I have heard these coffee breaks are held, there was no one. I grabbed my hot water from down the hall and headed back. At that point, the interim director appeared at that very same office’s door and she asked me how my weekend was. As I told her about my time in the city, I noticed in her hand a small piece of china with an accompanying saucer. In that cup were the remnants of what was likely a caffeinating and delicious Armenian Coffee. I had been foiled again. I arrived accordingly and the coffee break, like a mirage, disappeared as I approached. I know in my heart that these coffee breaks are real. Like the Siren’s Song, the next time I hear an increase in feminine giggling and guffaws I will allow it to guide me to the next coffee break. I swear it.
Update Wednesday 4:27 PM: They were quieter this time, but thinking that 4:15 was a good time for coffee I began my round of the office. Finding one attorney making tea on her own, we spoke for a moment about an event at the Embassy but no mention of a coffee break. As I made my way back to my office, I peered into the office where these elusive breaks are allegedly held. On the table sat a few small plates sprinkled with crumbs of what were likely delicious petits fores or macaroons. Damn it! Like the unicorn, capturing the coffee break moment remains impossible. Next time.
Update Thursday 3:00 PM: Undoubtedly I wanted this tragicomedy to continue if for no other reason the comedic value. However, I am both sad and jubilant that I finally got in on one of these coffees. Served Armenian coffee and handed a bunch of dried Armenian dates I enjoyed the company of my coworkers and sat pleased in the odd sense of satisfaction I felt. Hopefully this hard fought success will soften my image around the office and ingratiate myself to my colleagues.
I now have a hard road ahead. Once coffee break wont be enough, I need to remain vigilant to attend these office bonding sessions. After nine days of working in this office, I've made one small step, undoubtedly there will be more with plenty of stumbles along the way.
