I’m at a bar watching a Yankees game. The guy sitting next to me gets up to use the bathroom. He puts a coaster over his drink and walks away. Where does he go? I don’t know. Maybe the bathroom.
Maybe he’s a spy on a mission, there to assassinate the barback. The second one sounds more fun, but what I’m more concerned with is his seat-saving method.
Again: he put his coaster over top of his drink. Somehow, this has become the international signal for, “I’m still sitting here.” I have no idea who came up with that, but I’m guessing it wasn’t a coaster.
That’s a lot of responsibility for a coaster. Protecting the bar from getting a ring is one thing. But protecting a seat? Now you’ve got this thing outside its comfort zone.
You’re asking it to go outside its comfort zone. What’s the next step in the progression? You going to have it out front in a black polo, checking IDs and bouncing drunks? Is it going to be escorting the nightly deposit to the bank?
An inanimate object cannot have humanly properties, but every time I walk past a coaster guarding a drink I can’t help but think it looks proud.
Think about it from the coaster’s perspective: it just DOUBLED its number of marketable skills. Gone are the days when they were just a barrier between glass and finished wooden countertop. Now they can add, “security consultant” to its list of skills. You can practically see the coaster rushing back to its laptop after its shift to update its resume.
Coasters owe a debt of gratitude to everyone using them to guard drinks. They just enable that coaster to write a blog about the experience on the coaster version of LinkedIn.