Apparently 91 is the threshold or the continuing saga of new guys

Two days in a row!  My fingers are going to cramp or something...

Well, in the seemingly never ending stream of new guys around here (refer to this one for a refresher if you need it) we have a new remora and, while that's not exactly a literal use of the word, I found the imagery made me chuckle.  And since, you know, I'm writing it, well I kinda get to choose my literary references.

Wes joined our happy little crew a little over a month ago, and for the most part, he's doing fine.  As Shawn did before him, Wes has got all the new guy routines down pat.  And let me just say, I really enjoy not having to deal with household drudgery around here.  Definitely one of the bonuses to having new guys in on the regular.  No vacuuming, mopping, laundry or any of the other daily duties unless I want to and even then only if the new guys are out running calls and unable to fulfill their new *made up word alert* guyly responsibilities.

This is my first day back post NC btw and the fact that it's a Sunday helps ease back in to the routine.  On a holiday weekend, no less.  Pretty sedate around here and that's ok with me.

One other thing about weekends/holidays around here, we tend to get family or friends stopping by to visit.  Like today, when some family members of one of the guys stopped for a visit.  A couple of cousins with a toddler and a baby and a grandma stopped in.  I didn't realize grandma was here until I walked in to the kitchen and saw her sitting at the table, minding her own business.  I said hello and asked her if we could get her something to drink.  Meanwhile I was also muttering to myself about what the heck was wrong with these guys that they didn't ask her already.

"Glass of water, coffee what would you like?"

Her reply was something along the lines of "Well, I'll always take a cup of coffee"

The flurry of activity to my side proved to be Wes busily grabbing a cup from the cabinet and pouring Al's grandma a cup of coffee.

A cup of four hour old coffee.

I shot him one of my disapproving fatherly glances (hey, I've got to use what works) and told him to make a fresh pot.

I explained to Al's grandma there would be a slight delay while we made her a fresh pot.  When it was finished, Wes poured her a cup and asked if she needed any cream or sugar and she told him she  was 90 years old and still drank her coffee black.

As the coffee dilemma was settled, my focus turned back to Wes.  This was, after all, a teaching moment, right?  I asked what he was thinking when he gave old coffee to our guest.  I asked him what was the factor he used to determine who should receive fresh coffee and who could safely be served four hour old coffee.  After several minutes of questioning and Wes doing, frankly, a rather poor job of explaining himself, we (I) came to the logical(?) conclusion that apparently 91 is the threshold for fresh coffee.

90 or younger and you get the dregs at the bottom of the pot.

At least at Station #3 on a Gold Shift.

Peace

PS, because, well, you know, as it turns out Wes redeemed himself with a really lovely Oreo (I guess I need to talk to him about his choice of cookies) whipped cream and generally all-around chocolaty dessert.

Again,

Peace