I seem to suffer from selective anger issues. Insult me, and I’ll brush it off. Say something rude, and I’ll usually laugh. Hit me, and I’ll either walk away, or hit back – and then walk away. I just don’t get mad that often. At least, not at people.
Vending machines, however, are a different story. Thursday, I tried to buy a sandwich, and came away bleeding. I did everything I could to get that thing to vend, but it was just stuck. It only cost me a few dollars, so it shouldn’t have been a big deal – but it was the principle of the thing! I wasn’t going to pay twice for a mediocre, stale sandwich! I paid for that sandwich, and I should be able to eat it!
Problem is, BYU puts their vending machines all up against each other (probably so people can’t shake things out of the vending machines). Which meant I couldn’t shake the sandwich out. It just leaned against the glass, taunting me. So I pummeled that thing with all I was worth (which wasn’t much, let’s be real). After drawing blood on one of my fingers, I gave up on the fist-beating tactic, and tried reaching inside it. Didn’t work: short arms. Then I realized I might be able to shake it if I used all my body weight, and climbed up onto the opening and started jumping up and down on the front of the machine.
It was at this point that I realized there might be security cameras nearby. Defeated and a little embarrassed, I realized something: I’m 23 years old, and I’m jumping up and down on a vending machine for a $3 sandwich. I stepped down, assessed my bleeding finger, and paid for the sandwich again. Then I bought some chocolate milk to make myself feel better. It wasn’t a very good sandwich, but the chocolate milk tasted good. ♦