Meet the hardest working coffee machine at the RUG

I’ve served you more than 33,000 times over the past six months. According to UKrant, I am the most generous entity at the RUG. Who am I? I am instant coffee machine M71512071, and I live on the first floor in the UB.
By coffee machine M71512071 / Transcription by René Hoogschagen / Translation by Sarah van Steenderen

Need coffee? Press my buttons, and I’ll pour you a nice hot brew. I’ll even throw in the paper cup for free. I’ve got sugar and milk. The latter is powdered, so if you don’t like it, the hipster machine to the left has normal coffee milk. You know, that bald guy.

Not that I’m jealous or anything.

But I, instant coffee machine M71512071, have provided you with 33,647 cups of coffee, tea, chocolate milk, and everything in the between. And that’s only in the last six months of last year, including the summer holidays, so do the math. That’s a whole lot more than baldie over there.

Not that I’m jealous.

Hipster dude is a lot more expensive than I am, did you know that? He charges a whole euro for a single cup of joe! You can get the same amount of caffeine for just forty cents if you come to me. Instant coffee tastes just as good, right?

He charges a whole euro, and my caffeine is only forty cents

Plus, it takes him forty-five minutes every day just to get ready. I’m always available. It drives Geert crazy, he says. All those coffee addicts breathing down his neck whenever he’s busy refilling that fat guy. He’s working as fast as he can! The stupid machine just has too many bells and whistles. Three types of fresh beans, all sorts of fancy syrup. I’m just a simple guy. Servicing me is child’s play. And no one ever cuts the line to get to me.

Geert and his cart show up to refill me every morning at six. He’s such a doll. He takes a soft cloth and passes it gently over my haunches, lightly touches my buttons, finally ending with a moist cloth on my… spout. At last he fills me – that is to say, my reservoirs – to the brim.

Apart from the one for soup. I don’t know why, but I never get any soup. It’s a shame. People hanker for something warm in the afternoon, especially in the winter, and now they have to make do with one of those mushy sugar-y bars from behind the window of that cold-looking machine next to me.

I was born in Denmark, my mother is Italian and my father, Douwe Egberts, is Frisian

He’s a weird one, that cool guy. For one, he sells water! When there’s a tap to the left that works just fine. You know who else serves water? I do! I serve water. Totally for free. It’s even filtered.

Bottled water… Must be a foreign thing. Those guys don’t know a thing about how clean the Dutch water is.

I’m not racist or anything. I treat everyone the same. In fact, I’m a foreigner myself. Heck, I’m downright cosmopolitan. I was born in Denmark; that’s why my name is Wittenborg. My mother company is Italian and my dad, Douwe Egberts, is Frisian.

Dad also had an affair with the American Sara Lee for a while, but that’s a sensitive issue. I think he’s seeing another American these days. It’s hard to keep track sometimes.

If you’re in the market for some gossip, come to me. I hear everything people say when they visit me

Anyway, back to me. If you’re in the market for some gossip, come to me. I hear everything people say when they visit me. Lovely weather we’re having. A little chilly though. The basement bar at Vera was fun last night. Did you know they arrested the creep from the Jaagpad? I also heard we have a woman boss now. I think her name is Aletta? I’d love to meet her some day.

I’m sorry, what? The interview is done? Oh. Bummer. I was having a nice time. Can I say one more thing? To all those worrying students and hard-working employees?

Here goes:

I’m here for you. Every day from nine in the morning to late at night, seven days a week, practically all year long. Whenever you need me, I’ll be there to listen and offer you solace.


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