The Coborn That Came For Tea

A tiger knocked on at a house with enough food to satisfy its appetite. The daughter of the household looked on in wonderment and awe. The mother of the household, gripped by fear of what the mammal may do, watched on in fear. An audible exhale of relief could be heard from the pair once the tiger pootled off with a full belly.

Now I'm not a tiger, merely a looming figure of a man. The looming figure of a black man. I do not frequent the homes of strangers in search of food either. However, I do feel an affinity with the silent tiger. The nervousness that I seem to inspire from fellow coffee professionals at industry events is palpable. Much like the tiger, I seldom explain my presence at coffee events because I'm usually there to glean as much as I can. Unlike our feline friend, I'm usually after information, contacts and/or to learn.  With that said, food is always welcome.

Having joined the non-exclusive club of awkward mid-thirty year olds, I am very rarely looking to make best friends at industry events. My eagerness to be completing a Netflix series with a glass of wine can sometimes be mistaken for quiet confidence. So if you do find a tiger at a cupping or such event, do call the emergency services. If you see me however, do say hi. I'm not that exotic, frightening or interesting, just a bloke doing his job.