Coffee, Cukes and Moral Quandries

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I know I will never be selected to perform in the Cirque du Soleil, but I consider myself solidly in the 50th percentile when it comes to coordination. So why is it that I am unable to simultaneously bag three kiwis while holding a coffee cup in one hand? It’s not that I don’t have any genetic inclination—I was raised by a coffee drinker who has no problem simultaneously balancing 2 cups of coffee with the New York Times crossword. However, I am coming to the game a bit late to say the least. You see, I am a novice coffee drinker. Actually, coffee would be a misnomer to all of my coffee consuming friends. I have only recently latched on to lattes, which my java drinking companions consider a poor imitation of the real thing.

Regardless, I so often see nonchalant coffee drinkers balancing their coffee cup while going about their daily lives. Okay, so I don’t frequently grocery shop with my dad, and I have no recollection of him holding his coffee while maneuvering a grocery cart through aisles of produce, yet certainly a pen and a newspaper are equally as slippery as a couple of kiwis. Here I am, managing without difficulty to select three just right kiwis with one hand and then comes the tricky part. How do I grab and open a plastic bag and slip the kiwis in while holding onto the coffee cup? Thank goodness it’s not the height of traffic at the grocery or surely I’d be embarrassed by my ineptitude. The cart is moderately full and I know if I attempt to nestle my cup among my groceries it’s only going to tip. Forget the plastic bag; I’ll drop the kiwis directly into my cart.

Onto a cucumber, surely I can manage to bag a lonely cucumber in this slightly encumbered state. I select a perfect cucumber, pretty straightforward with one hand. Now I need to grab a plastic bag. Less straightforward while balancing the cucumber with the coffee. Should have nabbed the bag first. Bag in hand, now how do I open it? I barely manage to slip the cucumber in and then, oh darn, the cuke slips out and splats on the floor. Well, it doesn’t actually fly apart, but there’s a pretty good soft spot on it. Now the ethical quandary. This dilemma surely wouldn’t make the grade for a college application, but I am not overseeing the production of countless pharmaceuticals, so this is the extent of my morning’s ethical considerations. Besides, if the admissions’ personnel ever read what my final choice is in this dilemma, I wouldn’t be admitted anyhow. I consider my options. Return the cucumber to the bin for the next unsuspecting shopper. Tell the produce manager; who is nowhere in sight. Tuck the cucumber among the Empire apples where it clearly doesn’t belong and therefore will be regarded as suspect and not selected by the next shopper. I admit, I take the low road, the apples get an interloper and I give up on bagging a cucumber today.

By this time my drink has cooled to luke warm at best—real coffee drinkers would now be truly aghast that I could continue to sip and shop. But I continue on, starting to gain mastery of right hand cart turns—much easier than left turns— contemplating my options when I get to the checkout. Putting the cup on the conveyor is only going to lead to an embarrassing mess and I’ll be uncovered for what I am—a neophyte latte drinker. Nestling the cup among my groceries is likely to lead to the same result with the store manager calling over the intercom, “clean up on check out lane 8”. So I opt for the only reasonable alternative—take it to the trash can. Next time, I’ll get the coffee after the grocery.