A Vending Machine Journey

I often take a mid-afernoon break and walk myself down to the break room, wherein lives a vending machine. I put in the few quarters I have, and then take a few moments to painstakingly decide on the one item I will choose to keep my engine going throughout the day. Then I enter the numbers and OH MAN is this nerve-racking, because what if I type them in wrong, and end up with a bag of stale cookies? Or worse yet, GLAZED PEANUTS. I think this situation is pretty common for my life as a whole; putting in money before I've made my decision and then freaking out about maybe not putting in the right combination to get what I want, and what would I do with freaking glazed peanuts anyway, figuratively speaking? Then I spend days and weeks and months waiting for the repercussions of that decision, and of course even if the right item is in the works, what if it doesn't work out? What if it is too far back and doesn't fall off the rack? Or the most dreaded: what if it gets stuck on the hooks. And I know this happens because once I got two bags of Doritos because some sucka had his bag get stuck on the hooks, and mine pushed it off along with the one I paid for. I gave it to the guy behind me, though, because a.) if you pick up money off the ground, you shouldn't keep it, and b.) nobody should eat two bags of Doritos in one sitting. Then lo and behold, what happens next is glorious, when I know I have picked the right combo to get what I wanted, and can spend a few delicious minutes savouring my victory. I was pondering all this while I waited for my snack today.

And then I sighed, reached into the drop box, grabbed my bag of baked cheetos and walked back upstairs.