Vending Machine

Everyone has that one person at work that you just don’t like. For whatever reason, this person just irks you. It could be as simple as a strong handshake. Regardless of your logic, there is always that one. This entity drives you so crazy; it forces you to take deep breaths into a paper bag just to restrain yourself from lunging at it.  

Sometimes the justification is legit.

The vending machine on the 17^th and I do not have a healthy working relationship. Each attempted purchase is an adventure. It mocks me on a daily basis. The machine has eaten my money, refused to take my dollar bills, declined to give me back quarters and instead spits dimes out at my feet, called me ugly, made an anti-Semitic remark once and I’m not even Jewish. Maybe the last few aren’t true, but that machine is a rat bastard. 

Do you know how embarrassing it is when your snack gets stuck in the vending machine while co-workers walk by? Well it is. Especially when a cute girl comes strolling through the hallway and I’m stuck starring at the vending machine like a lunatic. She takes a look at me standing there with one hand on the machine and my head hanging in defeat. I would make a great “Don’t Give Up” motivational poster that you might see in an elementary school.

Motivation

I’ll put more money in so I can get my snack to drop, but what if it eats that money too? I can’t keep feeding this vending machine, spawned straight from hell, money. It won’t learn its lesson that way. Now I’m stuck, cute girl still watching me and MY Swedish Fish hanging in the balance.

I start to shake the crap out of this machine despite the note that reads “Do Not Shake Machine”. I hate that sign. I wouldn’t shake it, but it stole my money, food and pride. I start to shove it back and forth. “Drop, drop, drop! I paid you, now spit it out.” I can feel my face getting red and sweat beads starting to form on my forehead. I’m seriously contemplating putting my head down, taking a running start and slamming all my body weight into the glass of this coin snatching machine.

Of course, I don’t do that. I mean that would make me completely insane. I could just imagine having to explain to people how I broke my arm. Anyway back to this snack hostage holding vending machine. MY Swedish Fish are still swaying behind the glass and the cutie is still watching. Not sure if she has lost all respect for me or feels pity. Either way it doesn’t seem to be going well.

Last chance to make something happen and salvage the little dignity I have left. I take a deep breath and give it one more firm shake, the kind of shake that if I shook your hand you might be confused to why I am shaking it so hard. You would tell people, “Hey see that guy? He doesn’t know the proper strength to apply for a handshake.” Then I become that guy at work that you don’t like. 

Finally! It drops! The crowd goes wild. The cutie flashes me a smile. Co-workers are chanting my name. I don’t look like a weak pitiful crazy person anymore. I pop open the Swedish Fish and offer one to the pretty lady. We simultaneously bite into one and what do you know? Stale! Hard Swedish Fish! I risked losing my self confidence, my manhood and any chance of mildly impressing a young lady. For Stale Swedish Fish? I loathe you vending machine. I really do. You are my enemy. I hope nothing but the worst for you.

See you tomorrow?