Chasing the Wind

Ok, so one day last week, I stuck 65 cents into the machine to buy a bag of M&M’s, which whirled and twirled and left the M&M’s dangling from the shelf. Grr. So I put some more money in – I’ll buy a bag for next week, I think. The machine whirls and twirls, the first bag falls… but the 2nd bag is stuck now.

Grrr. The engineer in me notices that directly above the M&M’s are Planter Sunflower seeds. A nice heavy bag, probably won’t get stuck… and could possibly knock the M&M’s free. More money goes in, more whirls and twirls, and *whack* the sunflower seeds smacks the M&M’s on the way down, but fails to dislodge them. It’s like an arcade game now, I can win this… more money, more whirls and twirls… and *whack* I’m a winner! I’m now the proud owner of 2 bags of M&M’s and 2 bags of sunflower seeds. Except I don’t like sunflower seeds, they’re a whole lotta of work, takes both hands, I get spittle all over my fingers trying to eat the seeds… I give both bags of sunflower seeds to the secretary. She asks me why I bought them if I didn’t want them. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I say. Of course I don’t want to talk about it – I’m a traumatized victim of vending machine abuse.

That was the part of the story where I said I didn’t have much to work with. Today, I’m looking at the machine… I’ll have circus animal cookies today. Put the coins in, whirls and twirls… and the cookies get stuck. I hate this machine.

Behind the stuck circus cookies are Keebler fudge stripe cookies… ok, I can save those for next week. I’ll buy another bag, completely forgetting that this strategy with the M&M’s left me with sunflower seeds I didn’t want. I put more money in, I push the button… er. Where’s my whirls and twirls? The machine did absolutely nothing. It didn’t even bother putting on a show this time, it just flat kept my money. I paid for 2 bags of cookies and I got squat.

Grrr.

In my frustration, I press the “H” button where the cookies were. Repeatedly. H-H-H-H-H-H-H-H take that you stupid machine. The whirls and twirls start. And kept going. Whirls and twirls and whirls and twirls and whirls and twirls until the entire row of cookies dumps out. 8 bags of cookies. I gather them all up, perpelexed. I’m going to have to turn these back in Monday to somebody so I’m not some sort of demented cookie thief.

I come back to my office area, past the secretary that I gave the sunflower seeds to. I am loaded with cookie bags and having trouble holding on to them all. She looks at me. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I say, and take them all to my desk.