Daily Rant: Vending Machines

I do understand why we have vending machines at work. Still, it irks me that they are here. Some of you may know that over the past 2 years, I've lost about 100 lbs. Having a vending machine staring you down every time you have to go to the bathroom, its hard to resist. All of the yummy goodness trapped inside, waiting to be liberated with just a nominal bail of pocket change. Of course I break down. Peanut Butter cookies, Dipsey Doodles (corn chips that bring me way back to my childhood cafeteria days) and a bevy of various candy bars. It haunts you, once you get the idea of that sin-riddled indulgence in your mind, you sit and stew. You wonder "Do I have any change?". I, myself, despise pocket change. A subject better left to broach on another day. Needless to say, I was void of change. But the vending machine gods of course have thought and pondered on this and conveniently have included a little slot that will happily suck in your dollar bill and spit out the change. This way you have change for a latter visit! How inventive. Do I have a dollar? NO! Just a lonely five-spot. So, I suck up my pride and begin asking coworkers to break my bill. They know what I'm up to, what's dancing in my brain and wearing me down to near insanity-by-hunger. With a chuckle and a smile, someone finally obliges and I merrily skip off to the lighted box trapping my snack inside. What to choose? It becomes overwhelming. So a few choices are made, buttons punched, change spit out, and low and behold my sweet, salty and oh so bad for you snacks are dispensed. I must mention that we have a quite cantankerous soda machine too which charges anywhere from $1 to $1.50 for refreshment. You take a chance when getting lured in by this shrew's wares. It's a crapshoot if you will actually be rewarded with your selection or it will get stuck, causing you to kick, punch and curse at the darn thing until one of two events occur. 1. You finally unwedge your purchase and emerge victorious... or 2. the business manager hears your struggle and comes to reprimand you like some sort of displaced mother, to which you respond by shoving your hands into your now empty pockets, hang your head and shuffle off to stew at your desk about the robbery. I think from now on I'll stick to the free coffee or water. Still, I know deep down in my heart, tomorrow will come and I'll be digging for change again, coming up with the leftovers of the previous day and shaking my fist, cursing the vending Gods as they look down upon me and snicker.