Title: The Coffee Machine Incident
Characters:
SARAH (30s): A high-strung office manager, perpetually stressed.
MARK (20s): A laid-back graphic designer, trying to stay calm.
Setting:
An office breakroom. A sleek, but currently sparking and smoking, espresso machine sits on the counter. The room smells slightly burnt.
(The lights come up on SARAH, staring in horror at the espresso machine. She is holding a charred coffee filter with tongs. MARK enters, humming, holding his favorite mug.)
MARK
(To the machine, cheerfully)
Morning, Betsy! Time for my liquid gold.
(He notices Sarah's posture and the smoke.)
MARK
Oh. Betsy’s having a bad morning, isn't she?
SARAH
(A sharp intake of breath)
Betsy has spontaneously combusted, Mark. The power surge was spectacular. I think I’ve aged a decade.
MARK
(Leaning in for a closer look)
Huh. Looks like the internal wiring finally gave up the ghost. I did warn Jim about that flicker last week.
SARAH
"Warned Jim"? Mark, we are a global corporation! We can't run on "warnings"! We need protocols! I am literally holding evidence of our negligent facility management!
(She holds up the charred filter with the tongs, shaking slightly.)
MARK
Okay, put the tongs down, Sarah. It’s just a coffee machine. We’ll order a new one from Office Depot.
SARAH
"Just a coffee machine"?! This machine was the linchpin of our morning productivity! This machine was the only thing preventing accounting from revolting at 8:45 AM! I have eighteen urgent emails and a 9 AM meeting with the regional VP, and now I have a crisis!
MARK
The crisis seems mostly internal right now. Look, I have a backup French press in my desk drawer. And some artisanal Guatemalan blend I was saving. We can make a pot in the kitchenette.
SARAH
(Staring at him, bewildered)
A French press? In this economy? That takes ten minutes! That's ten minutes lost to the void of manual labor and hot water steeping! What about the foam? I need foam, Mark! Foam symbolizes order and civilization!
MARK
(Shrugging)
Okay, well, my foam solution is usually just vigorous stirring.
(Sarah groans, rubbing her temples.)
SARAH
This is a disaster. The smell of burning plastic is going to permeate the entire floor. The fire marshal will be here within the hour. We’ll be shut down. It's anarchy!
MARK
(He gently takes the tongs from her hand and places the filter in the bin.)
Sarah, breathe. It’s a Tuesday. We have hot plates and a microwave. We are resourceful humans. We will survive the great coffee drought of 2025.
SARAH
(A faint flicker of hope in her eyes, mixed with dread)
Guatemalan, you said? Is it strong?
SARAH
(Straightening her jacket, a look of resolve replacing the panic)
Alright. The VP meeting can wait five minutes. Lead the way, Mark. But if this "French press" doesn't produce acceptable foam, I'm calling a general assembly.
(Mark puts an arm around her shoulder and guides her toward the door. They exit as the smoke alarm finally begins to chirp very softly.)
(FADE OUT)
MARK
It’ll put hair on your chest.
MARK
Deal.
(The lights come back up on the breakroom, now twenty minutes later. The air has cleared slightly. SARAH and MARK re-enter. Mark is holding two large, plain mugs filled with dark coffee. Sarah looks less stressed, but deeply unimpressed.)
MARK
See? Ten minutes, zero fatalities.
SARAH
(Taking her mug, taking a tentative sip)
It tastes… rustic. It lacks the nuanced robotic consistency I’ve come to rely on. And there isn't a single bubble of foam. It’s flat. It’s basically just hot bean water.
MARK
That’s what coffee is, Sarah. Hot bean water.
SARAH
It’s the presentation of the hot bean water that makes the corporate world go round. The machine symbolized our aspirations for efficiency and modernity. This... (she holds up the plain mug) ...this symbolizes our reliance on manual labor and primitive equipment.
MARK
Well, manual labor saved the day. You ready for your VP meeting?
SARAH
I suppose. I’ll just have to rely on caffeine and sheer willpower, instead of the comforting knowledge that our infrastructure is sound. The illusion of competence is shattered.
(A loud BEEP is heard from the counter. Both of them jump.)
SARAH
What was that?!
(They stare at the charred espresso machine. A small, flashing green light appears on its side, followed by a faint whirring sound.)
MARK
I think it’s trying to reset. Maybe the power surge fixed it?
SARAH
(Horrified)
Don’t be ridiculous! It's a fire hazard! Do not touch it!
(The machine suddenly sputters violently, emitting a gush of perfectly steamed milk directly onto the counter. It then shuts down permanently with a sad, final PFFFT.)
MARK
Well, there’s your foam. A little late to the party.
MARK
(Patting her back, a grin spreading across his face)
Cheer up. Now we can expense a really good new machine. Maybe one of those ones that connect to the Wi-Fi and we can control from our desks.
SARAH
(A small, genuine smile finally touches her lips)
Now that is protocol I can get behind.
(She takes another large sip of the strong Guatemalan coffee.)
SARAH
This is actually pretty good.
MARK
Told ya.
(They clink their basic mugs together.)
(FADE OUT)
SARAH
(Staring at the puddle of milk, utterly defeated)
The universe is mocking me.
continue and complete it
(The lights come back up on the breakroom, five minutes later. Sarah is on her phone, pacing and looking determined. Mark is cleaning up the spilled milk with paper towels.)
SARAH
(Into the phone, assertively)
Yes, I need the Model 7000, expedited delivery. No, the 6000 won't suffice. We require integrated milk frothing capabilities and a direct line to technical support. The crisis of the century just occurred, Gary, we can't afford any more downtime.
(Mark finishes wiping the counter and tosses the paper towels into the bin.)
MARK
"Crisis of the century?" A bit dramatic, even for you, Sarah.
(Back into the phone)
SARAH
Excellent. Send the invoice to my desk. Approval code Sierra-Alpha-Romeo-Alpha-Seven. Thank you, Gary.
(She hangs up, looking triumphant.)
MARK
(Whistling low)
Model 7000. Fancy. That thing probably costs more than my car.
SARAH
It will pay for itself in elevated morale and decreased workplace anxiety by Friday. Now, about this temporary situation...
(She gestures vaguely to the French press sitting on a nearby side table.)
MARK
It’s doing its best.
SARAH
(Picking up her mug again)
It’s adequate. But it made me realize something. My dependency on Betsy was a vulnerability. The Model 7000 will simply be a tool of maximum efficiency.
MARK
It’s my emergency supply. But I guess a coffee machine apocalypse qualifies as an emergency.
(Sarah nods briskly and heads for the door, mug in hand. She pauses at the threshold.)
SARAH
Oh, Mark. See if you can get facilities to remove the carcass of Betsy before lunch. The aesthetic is terrible for mental health.
MARK
(Saluting her with a roll of paper towels)
Yes, ma'am.
(Sarah exits. Mark looks at the burnt machine, then at the lingering puddle of milk on the counter, and shakes his head with a smile.)
MARK
Poor Betsy. At least you went out with a bang. And a splash of foam.
(Mark turns to the French press and picks up the bag of coffee beans.)
MARK
Right. Let’s make another batch of this emergency brew.
(Mark starts measuring beans as the lights fade to black.)
(CURTAIN
SARAH
(To Mark, covering the receiver)
It was a crisis of infrastructure, Mark! Gary understands the gravity.
MARK
Glad you found your peace. You heading to the VP meeting now?
SARAH
Yes. I feel fortified. This Guatemalan stuff is actually rather effective. You should bring it more often.
continue
(The lights come back up on the breakroom the next day. The old machine is gone. A large, sleek, boxed appliance with the label "MODEL 7000" sits prominently on the counter. MARK is admiring it, while SARAH stands beside it, beaming with pride.)
SARAH
(Patting the box lovingly)
It arrived at 4:30 AM. I’ve already calibrated the settings for optimal performance and downloaded the app.
(She holds up her phone, which has a shiny new coffee app open.)
MARK
You were here at 4:30 AM?
SARAH
Preparation is key to avoiding future infrastructure crises, Mark. Now, are you going to use the manual settings, or shall I initiate the Mark protocol via the app?
(He carefully opens the lid to the bean hopper.)
SARAH
(Nodding sternly)
Good. Respect the hardware.
(Mark begins the setup process. He puts his mug under the dispenser. Sarah hovers, watching every move.)
MARK
This is amazing. It even tells me the precise temperature of the water in Celsius. 92.5 degrees. That’s optimal.
SARAH
Of course it is. I wouldn't accept substandard heat.
MARK
(Impressed)
Listen to that silence. That’s the sound of progress.
(The machine dispenses a perfect stream of coffee directly into Mark's mug. A small side nozzle automatically produces a perfect layer of microfoam.)
SARAH
(Smirking)
That is what order and civilization look like, Mark.
(Mark takes a long, satisfied sip of his coffee.)
MARK
You win, Sarah. The Model 7000 is objectively better than my emergency bean water.
SARAH
(Taking a pristine new mug for herself)
It wasn't a competition, Mark. It was about ensuring sustained peak performance for the company. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a mountain of emails that suddenly don't seem so daunting.
(Sarah initiates her own coffee order via her phone app. The machine instantly starts preparing it.)
MARK
(Smiling, heading for the door)
See you in the trenches, Sarah.
SARAH
(Focused on the perfect stream of coffee)
Just make sure you recycle your paper towels properly, Mark! The system depends on compliance!
(Mark exits, laughing softly. Sarah sips her perfect, foamy coffee, a look of ultimate satisfaction on her face as the lights fade out
MARK
It’s majestic, Sarah. Truly a beacon of corporate efficiency.
MARK
(Chuckling)
I'll go manual for the first time. Need to bond with the machine.
(Mark presses the "BREW" button. The machine whirs to life with a quiet, efficient hum. It’s significantly quieter than Betsy ever was.)
MARK
Wow. Look at that foam! It’s art!
continue
(The lights come back up on the breakroom a week later. The Model 7000 sits humming quietly. The room feels sterile and efficient. MARK is standing by the counter, scrolling on his phone, sipping coffee. SARAH rushes in, looking frazzled again, holding a stack of papers.)
SARAH
(Absentmindedly grabbing the mug, taking a large gulp)
Thanks. Crisis, Mark. Major crisis.
MARK
(Frowning)
What now? Did the 7000 short-circuit like Betsy?
SARAH
Worse. Jim in Facilities sent a memo. Apparently, the Model 7000 requires a specific type of water filter—a proprietary Model 7000 filter—that costs fifty dollars each and needs replacement weekly. They only ordered three. We have less than a month’s supply.
MARK
(Blinking)
Fifty bucks a filter? Betsy was looking pretty good for a minute there. That's a racket.
SARAH
Exactly! It's a supply chain nightmare! We can't rely on this dependency! I've spent the last twenty minutes researching third-party filter manufacturers, but the warranty is voided if we use non-approved filters. The system is designed to fail us!
(She starts pacing again, energized by the new panic.)
MARK
Okay, Sarah, deep breaths. This sounds like a problem for accounting, not an existential crisis for humanity.
SARAH
It’s my infrastructure, Mark! My system! I promised the VP efficiency and sound management! I can't go back to the manual labor of a French press, the office has tasted true efficiency now! The morale drop would be catastrophic!
(She stops pacing and points a finger at Mark.)
SARAH
You still have that emergency bean water, don't you?
MARK
(Sighs)
Yeah, it's under my desk.
SARAH
Good. Keep it safe. We might need a contingency plan for the contingency plan. The age of the Model 7000 may be short-lived if Gary in purchasing can't negotiate a better deal.
(Sarah downs the rest of her coffee in one go, a wild look in her eyes.)
SARAH
I need to draft a formal complaint to the filter manufacturer. This is unacceptable corporate behavior!
(She strides out of the room with purpose, papers flapping. Mark shakes his head, picks up his mug, and takes a slow sip, looking perfectly calm.)
MARK
Some things never change.
(Mark hums a little tune as he turns back to his phone. The Model 7000 sits humming in the background, sleek and silent, blissfully unaware of the new crisis it has caused.)
(FADE OUT)
MARK
Morning, Sarah. Coffee’s fresh. I even made you a cup via the app. (He gestures to a full mug).
continue
(The lights come up on the breakroom a few days later. The air is tense. The Model 7000 sits unused. A cheap, plastic, single-cup drip coffee maker—clearly a stopgap measure—is being used by MARK.)
SARAH
(Offstage, yelling)
Mark! The water level in that plastic monstrosity is critical!
MARK
(Patiently, filling the drip machine)
I see it, Sarah! I’m managing the levels!
(Sarah storms in. She looks terrible. Her hair is messy, her clothes slightly rumpled. She slams a folder onto the counter.)
SARAH
Gary came back. The filter company won’t budge. They own the patent. Fifty dollars a unit. Per week. The CFO has halted all future filter orders until further review.
MARK
So the 7000 is officially a very expensive paperweight?
SARAH
(Glaring at the 7000)
It’s a monument to corporate greed. I told Jim to put a tarp over it so we don't have to look at its smug, efficient face.
(She gestures to the terrible drip machine Mark is using.)
SARAH
And this thing? This thing right here is the symbol of our regression! The coffee it makes tastes like disappointment and lukewarm tap water!
MARK
It’s not so bad. It’s got a certain... nostalgia for the nineties office environment.
(He pours a cup of the pale, weak coffee and offers it to Sarah.)
SARAH
(Pushing it away)
Get that swill away from me. I'm relying on energy drinks. I've had four today. I can feel my heart trying to exit my chest cavity.
MARK
(Sighing)
Look, maybe we need a different approach. Less "corporate war," more "guerilla tactics."
SARAH
(Perking up slightly, energy drink in hand)
Guerilla tactics? Continue.
MARK
The warranty is void if we use unapproved filters, right? But what if we just... adapt the generic filters to fit? The housing of the filter compartment seems pretty standard. A little ingenuity, maybe some scissors...
SARAH
(Eyes widening)
DIY coffee infrastructure! Mark, that’s borderline genius! It completely bypasses Gary in purchasing and the CFO's moratorium! It’s direct action!
MARK
Exactly. We just need to make sure the seal is tight so we don't flood the breakroom.
SARAH
(Excitedly digging through her folder)
I have a multi-tool in my desk drawer! We can do this! We can beat the system with arts and crafts!
(Sarah rushes out of the room.)
MARK
(To himself, picking up the box of generic filters)
I knew those Guatemalan beans would come in handy again someday.
(Mark follows her out, a renewed sense of purpose guiding their caffeine-fueled quest.)
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