Sunday, 4 August 2013

Dear Nespresso or The End of the Affair

Dear Nespresso,

I remember when we first met, it was in Geneva 2006.  You were the popular kid and I just wanted to fit in.  You had that beautiful shop on the quai Gustav Ador across from the Lake; I wandered in, feeling decidedly uncool overwhelmed by your smooth but distant charms.  In awe, I soon succumbed along with every other Swiss citizen and bought your Turmix.  Your design, your ease, your psychedelic-coloured capsules seduced me.  George Clooney convinced me that I was doing the right thing, and with Swiss efficiency, I recycled those beauties whilst building a flotilla of flashy capsules neatly stacked in my pantry, and adding an Aerocino to the mix.  I was besotted.

Much Love,

Your biggest fan

Dear Nespresso,

It was 2011, and our affair continued down under.  I have forgiven you for my failed Turmix and have moved on to a shiny vamp of a Citiz.  I forgave you, too, for my burnt-out Aerocino and have bought another.  I even forgave you for those more expensive brightly-coloured beauties.  My mother and sister-in-law have also succumbed to your charms.  I have doubts, though, and am beginning to question our relationship.  I now live in Melbourne, the mecca of coffee culture, where the flat white is an art form.  Suddenly, you don't seem quite so seductive, quite so elusive yet still I am loyal.  I add a sleek disposal unit enabling me to recycle in style.  Still, George doesn't move me quite the same way.  I was less besotted.


Your loyal fan

Dear Nespresso,

It is July 2013, I have been loyal for seven and a half years.  It has been an imperfect relationship.  I feel like I have given more than you and that only one of us has been constant and true.  My shiny vamp of a Citiz has failed me.  You have turned your back; spurned me.  You scoffed, unmoved at my distress.  "Pay a $150 repair fee or buy a new one" your only response.  My pleas that purchasing a 3rd machine in seven years seemed unfair and perhaps spoke to quality, fell on deaf ears.  I demonstrated to you that I have spent thousands of dollars over the years on your kaleidoscope palette of capsules.  I even argued that it made no business sense to lose me over  a $150 repair fee given the future we could have together; the thousands more you could count on from me if our affair were to continue.  You were unmoved, cold, business-like.  Did I ever mean anything to you? I am deceived.

Citiz, Turmix and Aerocino relegated to my garage floor

Your no-more fan

Dear Nespresso,

Before I bid you a final farewell, I would like to remind you of the principled individual that I am.  I have always recycled your capsules, I do not shop at Walmart, I support same-sex marriage, I avoid factory-raised chicken and eggs, and stand up for what I perceive to be right and compassionate in the world.   You have forsaken me and I am not afraid to say it.  We cannot be friends and I don't wish you well.  I have moved on and in a big way.

Let me introduce you to Giotto, our new love.  To be honest, C2 took advantage of your disloyalty to indulge a passion and invest in something that will be loyal a lifetime.  We are partnering with local Melbourne-based roasters to supply fresh beans thereby supporting local business and frankly delivering a superior experience.

You could have kept me dangling for years to come, Nespresso, but I am stronger, happier, and little-more buzzed in my new relationship.  Your gaudy-coloured capsules cannot compare to the new grinding, tamping, brewing and steaming experience, we and our new love are engaged in.

Giotto and I are equal partners; something we never were.


Australian Family Hendricks