The Aroma of Coffee in the Pyramid
There are aromas that accompany a person throughout life. For me, the aroma of freshly prepared espresso is one of them. Perhaps because coffee became the invisible thread running through my entire professional life. From my early years at FAEMA. Through Douwe Egberts. DOROMA. MOKAFINA. And finally, the Glass Pyramid. Even though we tried to work there with the most modern technology... almost every day still began with a cup of coffee.
Not only out of habit, but because coffee possesses a special gift. It brings people together. On mornings when I arrived early, the parking lot was still almost empty. In autumn, a light mist sometimes floated above the fields around Lummen. When I opened the door, I heard only the echo of my own footsteps. I turned on the lights. Little by little, the silence gave way to the beginning of another workday.
Before I even turned on my computer, I went to the small kitchen. I filled the espresso machine with water. I ground the coffee beans. Then I waited for that familiar sound. The soft hiss of steam. The first drops of espresso. Slowly, the rich aroma of coffee filled the Pyramid.
To me, that aroma always meant a new beginning. Soon afterward, I heard the front door open. Marco.
"I smell coffee!"
I laughed.
"You always smell coffee."
And he invariably replied:
"That's because you make the best espresso." Did he truly believe that? To be honest, I do not know. But it had become our little ritual. Soon afterward, Cristina came in too. Smiling, she asked:
"Have you already started without me?"
"No," I replied. "We simply started at the right time."
A few minutes later, we were all there, a small espresso in our hands. Not behind our computers. But together. Those first ten minutes of the day were probably worth more than many business meetings. We spoke about everything. The weather. A soccer match. An upcoming journey to Italy. A new ceramic collection. Or simply something amusing that had happened the day before. Only then did the work begin. At the time, perhaps we did not fully realize the value of those moments.
Today, I do. A company does not grow through work alone. It also grows through the bond among the people who work there. And such a bond is sometimes born around nothing more than a small cup of coffee. When visitors arrived from Italy, it usually did not take long before someone asked:
"Renato... will you make us an espresso?"
I always did so with great pleasure. I have always believed that a good espresso is far more than a simple drink. It is a way of saying:
"Welcome."
A gesture of hospitality. An invitation to sit together for a moment. Many important conversations did not begin in a meeting room. They began around that small table, with a steaming cup in our hands. Contracts were often not signed until hours later. But the first trust had already been born during that espresso. I have never forgotten that. Computers can help us work faster. Digital systems can store information and distribute it around the world.
But no technology can replace human contact. Trust is always born when people truly make time for one another. As I write these words, I can see that little kitchen again. The aroma of freshly ground coffee. Marco, impatiently waiting for the espresso to be ready. Cristina, smiling as she asked whether there was still a cookie left. And me... enjoying those moments of wonderful simplicity. Not because they seemed so special at the time.
But precisely because they were so ordinary. Today, I understand that happiness rarely announces itself with a great commotion. It does not live only in the greatest successes of our existence. It lives in the simplest mornings. In shared laughter. In an espresso prepared with love. Perhaps that is why the aroma of coffee still touches me so deeply today. Not because it reminds me of my career.
But because it brings me back to the people I loved. To a time when we dreamed together. Worked together. Laughed together. Without knowing it, we were creating memories that would accompany me for the rest of my life. When I prepare an espresso today, I sometimes close my eyes for a moment. Then I feel as though I am standing in the Glass Pyramid again. As though Marco might open the door at any moment. As though Cristina were about to enter with that familiar smile.
As though another workday were about to begin. Of course, I know that day will never return. But in my heart, that morning never truly ends. There, the coffee is always hot. There, laughter still echoes through the rooms. And there, we are all still sitting around the same table.