Some will consider what I’m about to say heresy.

For the life of me, I cannot understand why people wait in long lines each morning to pay $7.50 for a cup of coffee.

My wife and I get up each morning and plug in a percolator that was made when Kennedy was president. This percolator makes the best coffee, bar none, of any I have ever tasted.

While we’re getting dressed, it bloops the water into the crystal glass handle on top. After getting dressed, we arrive back in the kitchen just as the coffee turns golden brown and the light at the base of the percolator blinks a shiny red to tell us it’s ready.

I bought this percolator for fifty-cents at an estate sale. That’s a fraction of what people pay for a Grande, Quad, Nonfat, One-Pump, No-Whip, Mocha, Latte, E-I-E-I-O.

With a moo moo here, and a moo moo there.

Now mind you, I’m not judging, because I believe that people can spend their money however they like, but someone please help me understand this.

I’ve had two forays into one of these fine coffee establishments and both times I held up the line because I didn’t speak the language.

Me: “Hello, I’d like a large, black coffee.”

Them: “OK, so that’ll be one Grande.”

Me: “How much?”

Them: “No, sir. That’s the size.”

Me: “What’s the size?”

Them: “A Grande.”

Me: “Gimme a water.”

Obviously, I’m one of the few that doesn’t get the fascination with learning a new language and overpaying for coffee, because I’ve worked with lots of folks over the years who treat an excursion to the caffeine castle as a religious experience.

My path to work each morning takes me through the intersection of one of these coffee corners. People almost rear end each other as they block the right lane of traffic trying to turn in, and then spend 15 minutes in line to place and pick up their order.

I have to hand it to whoever came up with the concept. They’ve got to be making large piles of cash from the customers who drive everything from rusted old Chevrolets to new SUVs that have to cost more than my house.

As my grandfather used to say, “I honestly have no dog in this fight.” I have my insulated mug of freshly perked Folgers and I slowly sip and savor its goodness as I pass by the dedicated legions of coffee connoisseurs.

But it does make me wish I had come up with some idea that looks ridiculous on paper, but in real life people would pay for by the droves.

Like ATM fees.

©2015 John Moore

To read more of John’s musings, visit johnmoore.net/blog