Vending issues

I was standing in front of a vending machine the other day and wondered out loud what it would take to get me through my day, much to the amusement of a co-worker.

The Snickers were sold out, I wasn’t in the mood for something crunchy and for some reason, they don’t stock the darned things with beer.

I settled for a bottle of water and a Buddy Bar.

I am not sure who gets to decide what goes in the vending machines in the Daily Globe break room, but I know I haven’t been consulted on this issue. If I had been, there would be some of those ramen noodle foamy cup things you add hot water to and let sit for a few minutes. I tend to forget to bring a lunch and can’t eat fast food stuff every day because that would probably kill me.

Granted, ramen noodles in a foam cup aren’t exactly the answer to my healthy eating conundrum, but I like them. There is something absolutely fascinating about peeling back the paper cover halfway, filling the cup to the line with hot water and carefully patting the cover back into place. I usually anchor it back down by setting a fork on top. And then, ta-da! Food!

Vending machines come in such a variety. When I was a kid, my mom used to take me and my three brothers to the Montgomery Wards building in the cities. On the top floor, way behind the bargain stuff, was a room filled with a million vending machines. You could get almost every kind of food in the world out of a machine in that room, it seemed when I was little. Little cans of chili or soup, ice cream bars, candy, fruit, sandwiches and pop.

It was so cool. Really impressive to a bunch of hick kids.

I wish our vending machines here had a little more exciting fare, but we’re limited to two pop machines (and I rarely drink pop anymore) and one stuff machine. A few kinds of chips, a few candy bars, those little striped graham cookies and not much else. And it doesn’t get refilled until the thing is down to pretty much its last cookie. Kind of a bummer when you’re trying to get a story done and don’t want to waste the time to run the fast food gauntlet.

I guess I’ll have to be more diligent about making lunches for myself. I make them for Eric all the time, or bring him lunch when he forgets his, but rarely does someone make them for me or call me up to make sure I had lunch.

And trust me, one cannot live on Buddy Bars alone.
 

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