We all liked the same thing business would adapt. Ain’t no tellin’ whut concoctions folks come up with years ago whut ain’t readily available taday, No one prepares it cuz no one wants it.
The chicory stuff in coffee. Lou, rest the ole bull-headed fart, ran the kitty when I went to the bureau. All he’d make cuz we got it fer nothin’. As the folks whut lived thru WW II, God bless ‘em, who learned ta live with it got old ‘n moved on, the new guard, like me, wouldn’t drink it. When I earned a squad ‘n an office, I brought my own maker ‘n coffee in. Then others did. The coffee kitty went belly up. Had folks come in askin’ fer a cup. I left then came back. When I did someone else was runnin’ the thing with Folger’s. Had ta pay for it ‘n he ran a surplus ‘n used ta pay for our Christmas goodies.
Saddens me I can’t get hard licorice or horehound drops it the grocery. But ain’t ‘nuff folks want ‘em ta make ‘em profitable no more. The market is narrow.
Splittin’ a pot’d be mighty fine. Be interestin’ talkin’. But I ain’t takin’ responsibility fer any damaged stereo equipment should Cash stuff come on.
Ain’t gonna change, I’m old ‘n as bull headed as Lou was.