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Hear the cautionary tale of the staff's addiction to Matcha Green Tea.
To those reading this, thank you and you’re welcome -- because if you haven’t heard already, there’s a new high in town, and I’m about to let you in on the secret. I’ll also add an apology because if you get hooked to this stuff, like 5/8ths of the Kathy staff has, you’ll be mildly to moderately poorer from here on out. Welcome to Matcha Green Tea, punks (street name: MGT). Generally, this shizz runs $20 per ounce if you go with the Ceremonial Grade powder. But, don’t waste your time or fewer-dollars on anything else. Culinary Grade is for cooking and/or lame people.
What is now an all-consuming addiction began as an innocent introduction to the Japanese substance by our Executive Producer, Kay, or as we now call her, “Kingpin.” Kingpin brought the first ounce of MGT to the office about one month ago -- she narrowed her eyes and told us it was “packed with antioxidants,” and that we should all “try some.” She had even brought along a traditional bamboo whisk -- many hard users find this tool enhances the experience, as it creates an enticing frothiness during the blending process. It was abundantly clear this wasn’t Kingpin’s first pony ride.
She showed the staff how to make perfectly frothed MGT with a teaspoon of powder, a bowl, hot water, and the whisk (much like the scene from Karate Kid 2, but without the ominous storm brewing and slightly more romance). After we all had our first cup of the swamp-colored brew, we instantly knew there was no turning back; this was a dragon we would forever chase. When the tea’s natural antioxidants and beneficial amino acids hit our blood streams, our mid-afternoon fogs lifted, our work productivity went into overdrive, and a warm sense of well-being and easiness overtook the office. Within minutes, we all began to laugh inexplicably and, without warning, began complimenting one another’s outfits and hairstyles. I screamed, “adorable boots!” to Segment Producer, Erin, before I could help myself. Karen, one of the Producers, shouted, “I love you!” at no one in particular. That was a month ago, the staff has never been more jovial, and 5/8ths of us are now fiendishly hooked. The other 3/8ths thought it tasted too much like a cat crapping in their mouth and haven’t had it since. But just as well. It’s getting frighteningly competitive in the kitchen every morning as the can of MGT powder dwindles. The fewer people who want it, the better. We’re now approaching our last teaspoon, and there is a palpable Lord of the Flies-like tension amiss. Karen claims she has purchased the next batch for the office, but “left it at home” -- a statement that caused great suspicion and a violent staple-throwing incident from Shepard, another Producer who is usually quite docile. I even drove 15 whole minutes out of my way to the Teavana Store after work last Friday, only to be told their MGT supplies were sold out -- nationally. I did not respond maturely, and I’ll leave it at that.
Time is running out. It’s Monday morning, and we are down to half a teaspoon of matcha. That’s not enough to give anyone here at Kathy their proper fix, and even so, it’s being fought over like rabid wildebeests. Boot-compliments have quickly become jewelry-insults, light hearted laughter has become diabolical cackling, and Shepard just threw his desk at me. It hurt my shin. Yet Karen seems oddly calm and blissful amidst the chaos -- no doubt the cause of diving into her stash she “left at home.” Only moments ago, we began circling her, a la an Amazonian hunt, ready to take her down and eat her. But in an ironic twist of fate, we have left her alone, as I just found out that Amazon.com sells a wide variety of MGT. I’ve ordered it, I’ve paid the extra $89 to have it delivered overnight, and it should be here by morning. If not, the carnage will be vast. Please, keep our staff in your thoughts, and I hope you’re able to experience a similar kind of joy with MGT!