Maquinna's Poop du Jour

Tantamount to Taunting

I can't believe I'm writing yet again about the goddamn vending machine (hereafter known as the offending machine) on the floor of my building, but it is vexing me so ferociously right now that I am becoming convinced that some sort of low-tech conspiracy is at work.

When I came into work last Monday, I decided I wanted a package of peanuts from the machine. I put my money in, pressed the magic numbers, and watched the coil around them begin to spiral. Then - you guessed it - as if conjouring up the ghost of a Seinfeld episode, the peanuts sat there, magically connected to its comrades, stuck and unwilling to fall forward.

Grrr.

The natural instinct at this moment is to pound with your fists on the machine, kick it, grab it and shake it, anything, you think, since it will only take a little jarring to get your snack out. This, of course, does not work. Vending machines are made so that any force directed from the front has no impact on the products inside, and instead, reply with karmic vengeance on your person. Stand clear. This is how people end up squashed like bugs.

Vending machines can, however, be forced to comply if hit from either side. This won't help you if the machine is one in a long row of salty-snack or sugary-treat repositories. However, the offending machine in question is a stand-alone. It sits there like a defiant behemoth; you almost expect to see it sprout long mechanical pads for feet like in cartoons, and hop around the hallway. But it has no feet, and no buddies alongside it. It's entirely vulnerable, and I wasn't planning to give up until the peanuts were mine.

I throw a pretty mean hip-check. My ass is well-padded enough that I can keep it up long enough to force the offending machine into submission. I begin shaking it from one side with mighty blows from my butt.

Nothing.

I move to the other side. Pound, pound, pound...we're deep into battle now. Still, the machine won't give up the peanuts.

I move back to the first side and pound it some more, like a Japanese taiko drummer. Suddenly, a small can of Pringles chips flies out of its coil and into the tray. I laugh, but I'm pissed. The only thing I really want is the bag of peanuts. I keep hitting the machine. A pack of wafer cookies hits the tray. Still no peanuts.

Now I'm getting really annoyed. I double up and hit the machine again, hard. The peanuts wilt meekly from the coil and hit the dirt - and the crowd roared!

I returned to the office with my booty (all puns intended). Like a good girl, I took the peanuts to my desk and put all the other goodies in the staff kitchen with a note saying 'The vending machine gods have favoured us. Please help yourself.'

I stood victorious, for that brief shining moment.

Today, in a moment of weakness, I went back to the machine. I was intent on getting the least harmful thing (as far as I could determine) as a late-afternoon snack. I put in four quarters and pressed F9.

Nothing.

The offending machine has begun exacting its revenge. It has decided now that it will only take my money, and won't give anything at all, until my bill is paid. As far as it's concerned, it saw me coming and determined I owed it $1.85 for the chips and cookies it gave up the other day in the hip-fight.

I walked away. For now.

posted by Maquinna @ 4:03 p.m.