by Amanda Coers

Created on: March 16, 2007   Last Updated: April 17, 2007

It was my first day on the job. I had clawed, begged and bluffed my way here. It was my first day at the newspaper and I was determined to make a good impression. While I was waiting in the break room to meet with the news editor I decided to make a fresh pot of coffee. No sense in standing around.

The coffee pot was a huge and fascinating contraption. I rummaged through the drawers and found the filters and prepackaged coffee bags. I managed to wrestle the filter compartment open, loaded the coffee and poured the water into the container. As I was finishing, the editor walked in and I was whisked away to fill out forms and begin my day. I smiled with satisfaction that I had brewed a good pot of coffee for my coworkers to enjoy.

Later, I entered the break room to find a few of my new fellow employees frantically mopping a huge mess of water and scattered coffee grinds. My face turned beet red when I realized I had loaded the coffee pot wrong and this mess was in fact my own doing. I received looks of disdain and my good mood slipped a few notches. I joined in the salvage effort and took notes as a new, properly made, pot of coffee was produced.

My coworkers left me to my shame and I decided I needed a good cup of java to help me through this embarrassment. All the styrofoam cups were gone and there were several mugs next to the sink. I figured they were remnants of past employees, and I grabbed the cup nearest to me, filling it to the brim and carrying it with me to my new desk.

As I sorted through my belongings, desperate to get to work and redeem myself, the publisher of the newspaper, the boss man himself, walked up to my desk. I pasted on my best smile, hoping to impress him as my heart thudded in my chest.

Surely he was there to welcome me, and encourage me to do my best. He stared at me for the longest minute in recorded history and then pointed at my newly acquired mug.

"That's my cup," his voice echoed throughout the office.

I looked down at the random mug I had grabbed. It was black and over the university emblem my own red lipstick was smudged like the dirty stain of an unforgivable crime.

I sank deep into my chair and mumbled my apologies while I handed him his coffee mug. He walked away towards the break room and I could hear the snickers of my coworkers.

Yes, first impressions are lasting. I'm forever known as the ditz who blew up the coffee pot and stole the publisher's treasured coffee mug.

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