A Catastrophe in Ceramic

Penelope approached the office coffee machine, her spirit buoyed by the promise of lukewarm instant gratification. She inserted her mug, pressed 'Latte Deluxe', and watched as a single, anemic drip emerged, followed by a wheezing cough from the machine. "Oh, wonderful!" she declared to the empty breakroom, clapping her hands together with mock enthusiasm. "A truly *bespoke* experience. Clearly, this is an artisanal drip, carefully cultivated for maximum anticipation. I mean, who needs a full cup when you can have the *essence* of coffee, slowly extracted over the course of the next fiscal year? Bravo, engineering team! You've really outdone yourselves in delivering a profound, almost spiritual, test of patience. I imagine the bean farmers weep tears of joy at this efficient use of their precious crop. Perhaps I should just lick the nozzle. It would be a more expedient delivery system for this liquid gold, wouldn't it?" She then sighed dramatically, pulling out her phone. "Better update my will. I might not survive this ordeal."