Why I'm Quitting Coffee

If you have ever been an avid watcher of Mad Men, you know that the financial backbone of the fictional ad agency used to be its relationship with the real-life tobacco company, Lucky Strike. Upon hearing that the tobacco giant was going to fire Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce, Creative Director and partner Don Draper launched his own pre-emptive strike (no pun intended) by ending the firm's long relationship with Big Tobacco. The year was 1965. The Surgeon General's landmark Report on Smoking and Health was already a year old. Draper expressed his firm's position in an open letter to The New York Times. Ironically, he wrote the letter while smoking a cigarette (video). Regardless, knowing what we have discovered about tobacco ever since, the letter was poignant and potent.

The following letter is not. Instead, it's pouting and pathetic. While being an almost carbon copy of the Mad Men letter, it's actually a sad, desperate attempt to draw another personal line in the sand. And no, this is not The New York Times. Close, but not quite.  Hey, I'm no Don Draper. I don't have his kind of clout. Still, everyone should write at least one "capital M" Manifesto in their lifetime. This is mine:

 

Why I'm quitting Coffee.

    Recently my body (but not mind and spirit) ended a long relationship with jamocha. Varnish remover. Joe. Java. Mud. The best part of waking up - Coffee.

    And I'm relieved (That's a lie - I'm actually working through the five stages of grief and am currently in denial, sprinkled with liberal amounts of anger, bargaining, and sadness. Acceptance? yeah, right).

    For twenty years I devoted myself to this rich, brown liquid. Jittery alertness and rapid heart rates always came after each cup, but I couldn't stop myself from drinking it. Coffee never got old or boring, never caused any illness (that I'm aware of), and always made me deliriously happy (until crashing hard at exactly 11:23am every damn day). 

    And there was a lot of money in it. A lot of money (that's bullshit - I bought Folgers for chrissakes, and the cheapest filters I could find. My coffee maker? Black & Decker from Target, $18.99 on sale. B&D has coffee makers AND tools - versatile).

    In fact, my entire day depended on coffee. I knew it wasn't good for me (liar), but I couldn't stop (actually I have tried more than a few times, the longest stretch lasting 12 hours, six of which were spent sleeping. Just sad.).

    And then when I impulsively decided to quit coffee, I realized here was a chance to be someone who could sleep at night (instead of the 4-6 typical hours), because I know what I'm quitting is no longer killing me (kidding, coffee has never killed anyone - though some people trying to quit coffee do become increasingly homicidal).

    So as of today (June 24th really - a date that will live in personal infamy), Bergman Bergman Bergman & Bergman will no longer drink coffee. I know it's going to be hard (Hard? Shit, between the headaches, muscle cramping, and emptiness deep in my soul I'd rather be a steerage passenger on the R.M.S. Titanic).

    But if you're still interested in coffee (and why wouldn't you be - it's like frickin' mother's milk, pure ambrosia) here's a list of limited liability companies that do it well: Dunn Brothers, Starbucks, Caribou Coffee, and Seattle's Best. Or if you'd rather not pay their silly prices try Folgers, Maxwell House, Eight O' Clock Coffee or Chock Full O' Nuts. Huh - chock full of nuts. A good description for people trying to quit coffee.

    As for me, I welcome all of your sympathy and encouragement, because I am slipping into a deep, deep funk that there may be no coming out of - my best work is certainly behind me.

Sincerely,

Eric T. Bergman

Creative Director & Sole Proprietor

Bergman Bergman Bergman & Bergman