GENE PERRET'S WIT STOP

COFFEE Even an Old West Cowboy COULDN'T SWALLOW

ONE OF THE MOST PHOTOGRAPHED ROCK formations around Sedona is Coffeepot Rock along Soldier Pass Road. Featured on postcards, posters and advertisements, it even served as the backdrop for many of Hollywood's Westerns.

Of course, it's called Coffeepot Rock because it resembles an old coffeepotyou know, the kind the cowboys used to set on the open fire when they made camp. Cowboys always had a pot of coffee on the flames. They had to, because it was traditional Western hospitality to offer any stranger who rode into your campsite a hot mug of coffee. Even to those strangers who came to string you up, steal your booty or rustle your cattle, you still had to offer them a sip of your brew. Even bushwhackers, thieves and rustlers were entitled to civilized hospitality. Robbing, killing and stampeding could wait until after each and every cowpoke got his caffeine fix.

I've often wondered how that coffee tasted. The cowboys seemed to savor it, but after sitting in the saddle and chasing wayward heifers around the dusty countryside, anything would seem to taste good. I'm sure it was hot and usually fresh because whenever they broke camp, they'd throw out the dregs. They never carried leftover coffee from one campsite to another. But was it any good? I wonder.

We continue that coffee tradition today. Just like in the workplaces of the Old West, coffee ranks as much a part of the office scene as rubber bands, Scotch tape... and, many times, it tastes about the same.

Most workplaces have a pot of coffee brewing-not over a crackling fire on the open prairie, to be sure, but over an electric plate somewhere near the copy machine. We always had, not homemade, but office-made coffee wherever I worked, and I do know how that tasted - like it was left over from the Old West. We operated on the honor system. Someone, usually the first one into the office, would put the fixings in the machine and turn it on. However, no one ever thought to turn off the contraption when the pot was emptied. Throughout the day, you'd have the aroma of either freshly brewed coffee or an empty pot baking itself to dust.

We had three grades of coffee in our office -strong, stronger and "When did you start doing your hair like Phyllis Diller's?" No one ever brewed a fresh batch if there was still some left in the pot. Consequently, the drink just got more and more powerful as the daysometimes the week-wore on. Eventually it got to where you could have your coffee by the cup or by the slice.

Some of the more macho co-workers were proud of the strength of our coffee. "It puts hair on your chest," they would say. Well, it didn't really. What happened was your eyebrows would fall out and drop down onto your chest. Now the cowboys' coffee was more utilitarian. If it tasted terrible, no problem, the wrangler would use the liquid to put out the campfire. Our office brew, if it wasn't consumed, was good for nothing. In fact, it was good for nothing even when it was consumed. We never tried it, but some said our unused coffee was so powerful it could be used to remove nail polish-up to the second joint.

We had one gentleman in our workplace who never drank coffee. He was easy to spot. He was the one who still blinked.

I'm fairly certain our office was not unique. Bitter, acidic coffee seems commonplace in the corporate universe. I once went for a job interview, and the executive I met with said to his assistant, "I think this gentleman would enjoy a cup of coffee."

She said, "Yes, sir," then to me, "Would you like one lump or two?" I said, "I don't take sugar."

She said, "Who said anything about sugar?" Whenever I gaze at Coffeepot Rock on the outskirts of Sedona, I think of the wranglers who roamed the Southwest of yesteryear and how they relaxed after a hard day's ride with a mug of java cradled in their callused, weathered hands. They led a grueling, perilous life, those cowpokes. So I always turn toward Cathedral Rock, at Red Rock Crossing, and say a silent prayer that their coffee tasted better than it did in our office.

In the book Growing Older is So Much Fun EVERYBODY'S Doing It, author Gene Perret says, "The golden years are when your dreams can come true-if you can remember what they are." To order this book ($6.95 plus shipping and handling) or other Perret humor books, call toll-free (800) 543-5432. In Phoenix call (602) 712-2000. Or use arizonahighways.com.

WRITER'S WORKSHOP For the past 18 years, Gene Perret has conducted a Comedy Writer's Convention where humor writers of all skill levels come to hone their craft. This year's sessions will be July 18, 19 and 20 in Agoura Hills, CA. For information call (818) 865-7833.