Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Ending of the Vending

If you somehow happen to read about a Greenville county male who killed a random person without provocation, please direct all donations for bail money to Mrs_Blood.

I just wanted a Diet Coke.

I work on the 3rd floor in a 3-story building. On my floor, there are two soda vending machines: Coke products and Pepsi products. Given the choice, I prefer Diet Coke over Diet Pepsi. Sue me. Occasionally, I like to have a bag of fucking pretzels with my soda during lunch. It's not too much to ask, I don't think. However, the snack vending machines are on the 2nd floor.

And that's really not a problem because also in that second floor vending area are two soda vending machines: Coke products and Pepsi products. I like to kill two birds with one stone. In an ideal world, there would be snack vending machines on the 3rd floor too. But we don't live in an ideal world. I'm OK with that. I've come to terms with it.

I generally suck it up and walk down to the second floor and satisfy both of my vending urges at the same time. The snack vending machine is great because it's see-through. Snack empty? Don't put any fucking money in. But not so with soda. It's opaque. And because I'm not Superman, I can't see through the goddman plastic. When do you know your selection is empty? Well, of course, right after you put your money in and select "Diet Coke."

In our building, the cost of a 20 oz. bottle of soda was $1. A simple American dollar. Four quarters even. But then something happened. Six months ago, it was $1.05. Who the fuck carries around an extra nickel? Nobody, that's who. So us corporate monkeys trained ourselves to treasure those nickels. Seriously, who wanted to put two dollar bills in and get back 95-cents? Like I said, nobody.

When the vending machine fuckfaces couldn't phase us with the nickel, they figured they could double their extra profits and hose us even more by charging $1.10. And like lemmings we mindlessly began carrying around extra dimes.

But that's OK. I just want a Diet Coke and pretzels with lunch.

For the past week, the second floor vending machine was out of Diet Coke. The first time, there's really no way to tell. I put in a dollar bill....AND MY DIME....and pressed the button. This machine has three, count 'em three, Diet Coke slots. All three greeted me with the red light of stupidity, taunting me, blinking in code that said, "Ha ha moron! No Coke for you!" I pressed the change return button and was greeted with eleven dimes. Who the hell wants eleven dimes?

So I'd adjust. I'd get my soda on the 3rd floor, walk down to the 2nd and get my pretzels, then walk back up to the 3rd floor and eat. I waited a week. A week's a pretty good amount of time to wait for the vending machine to fill back up, don't you think? We have perhaps 1000 employees in the building, you'd think the vending machine company would take advantage of that fact.


I tried the 2nd floor machine again. Three buttons, three red lights. But because the vending machine had been near empty for so long, I didn't get back eleven dimes this time.

Yeah, that's right. Twenty-two fucking goddamn nickels! Fuck off Diet Coke, fuck off and die.

So I resigned myself to the fact that I'd from now on get my soda on one floor and my snack on another.

Until today.

Third floor soda vending machine, why have you forsaken me? I put in a dollar....AND TWO NICKELS....and pressed vend. Bang, a soda comes down. But it's not Diet Coke. It's regular Coke. If I wanted regular Coke, I'd have pressed the regular coke button. Luckily for me, the machine has two Diet Coke buttons, not three like its second floor counterpart, but still better than one.

In goes another dollar....AND TWO NICKELS...and bam! out comes another soda. REGULAR FUCKING COKE. I'm ready to kill.

I leave the regular Coke's on a counter top, some lucky sugar-based, calorie junkie just hit the jackpot. I hope he takes my free Coke's and goes into an insulin fit.

I hang my head, resolved to the fact that I have to now go down to the first floor vending machine area. The last resort among snackers on the 3rd floor. I grab another dollar out of my wallet and head towards the Diet Coke machine. I stick the edge of the bill into the receptacle and....

...it won't take.

I give up.


Someday, they'll find the body. What will puzzle the investigators the most will be how someone could kill someone else with an empty Diet Pepsi bottle.

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