Mysterious Coffee Drinker Person...

Who are you? When did you start working here? When did you start drinking coffee? Why don't you ever replenish the coffee that you drink?

A little background: Before I left on maternity leave, I made the coffee in the office. I was the first in, so I took on the job. Before I left on maternity leave only me and another coworker actually drank the coffee.

Now I'm back. I am still the office coffee maker. But there are mysterious drinkers now. The same amount of people work here as did before my leave.

I'm annoyed by this because:

I work on the west wing of the building, coffee is in the south wing. It's actually, not that big of a place but let me paint a little picture. Coffee is in the back of the building. My magnet is in the front/side, through a closed door and down a flight of steps.

When I am by myself, I won't and don't leave my patient in the magnet to go get a cup of joe. No matter how desperate I am.

When I do get a spare moment to run and grab a cup it is almost always gone.

I've tried making a cup at home, hence extra in the pot later. No dice. Always empty.

I am much happier with a second cup of coffee.

Why can't the last person just make another half of a pot?

Sidenote: Why do we call a cup of coffee a "cup of joe"?

• The phrase goes back to the 1840's and is of unclear origin. Possibly short for "Old Black Joe" a popular Stephen Foster song.
• Also maybe a misunderstanding of the French word chaud, which means hot and is pronounced similarly. This may have developed after tea was no longer available from British merchants in the 19th century.

These are the lyrics of Old Black Joe. I do not get the connection.

Old Black Joe

Gone are the days when my heart was young and gay, Gone are my friends from the cotton fields away,Gone from the earth to a better land I know, I hear their gentle voices calling 'Old Black Joe.' [Chorus] I'm coming, I'm coming, for my head is bending low: I hear those gentle voices calling, 'Old Black Joe.' [Solo] Why do I weep when my heart should feel no pain Why do I sigh that my friends come not again, Grieving for forms Now departed long a go? I hear their gentle voices calling 'Old Black Joe.' [Chorus] I'm coming, I'm coming, for my head is bending low: I hear those gentle voices calling, 'Old Black Joe.' [Solo] Where are the hearts once so happy and so free? The children so dear that I held upon my knee, Gone to the shore where my soul has longed to go. I hear their gentle voices calling 'Old Black Joe.' [Chorus] I'm coming, I'm coming, for my head is bending low: I hear those gentle voices calling, 'Old Black Joe.'

Information is from WikiAnswers and Poemhunter.com