The greatness of K-Cups

Or, the epitome of capitalism

Letty Dornfeld

Everybody knows that if you are stuck with two cows, the right choice is obviously to sell one and buy a bull, and in no time, you should be able to sell more than enough milk from your constantly-multiplying herd to make Donald Trump look like a trash collector. But as you pour that milk into your coffee mug in the morning, you start to wonder if there’s an easier way to make coffee―a way that doesn’t put you at risk of spilling water all over the counter, or of accidentally pouring way too many grounds into your filter and creating a satanbrew strong enough to burn through metal.

Instead, there could be a quicker way to make coffee, one that only requires the pop of a teeny-tiny disposable plastic cup into a magic machine that could brew one cup at a time. Sure, it would require buying a whole set of these cups, but as long as each cup was cheap enough to buy (and cheap enough to make), people would be quite willing to buy as many of these as they’d like.

Come to think of it, since each cup of coffee made would already be individualized, why not add
some fun flavors? You could have a little cup of plain joe in one hand and a cup of Jamaica Me Crazy on the other, each smaller than the palm of your hand. Not to mention everything in between such as Donut Shop or even hot chocolate. You could make a different flavor for every mood, for every taste, for every excuse to spend 10 dollars. Wait, could this work for tea, too?
Goodness, that means elephant herds of people will be paying you every day for these things!

Coffee is a basic part of American life. How could anybody not love these cups? You’ll be selling millions! Over nine billion! Enough of these cups to circle the world more than 12 times (or at least 12 landfills)!

Now, there could be a few setbacks for your customers. First, they’d have to buy an entirely new coffee machine that only takes these tiny plastic cups and not regular coffee grounds. It’s heavier than gold, and it should probably be paid in such. It comes with assembly instructions that are all written in Swedish, and every part looks like it came from one of Salvador Dalí’s acid trips.

But after purchasing the machine, each little K-Cup after that would only cost about 50 cents apiece, a dollar at the most. You’re not sure if the costs and benefits of using K-Cups versus regular coffee would be balanced out that way, but you’re too lazy to do the math. Pretty soon, you’ll be swimming in cash, and your customers will be swimming in coffee and empty plastic cups. It’s a win-win.

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