I stand there waiting on my change. I hear no jittery-jangle of coins hitting the tray. Nothing. I put my fingers in the coin return slot, nothing. I press the coin return button, nothing.
Now I'm really annoyed and I begin the most logical assault I can think of - punching random combinations of buttons and the coin return button AND verbally encouraging this bitch ass soda machine to give me my money.
Some guy comes into the breakroom sees me standing there with a quizzical look on my face muttering obscenities and punching buttons and he asks what's wrong.
"This STUPID machine won’t give me my change!"
He said maybe it’s stuck, let me try it. He jammed the coin turn button, nothing. Tried to pick the machine up by the corner to rock it back and forth, but it was too heavy. He said, "Well was your dollar bill wrinkly or something? Maybe it jammed."
Shaking my head, "No, because my soda came out so it accepted the money. But wait, I didn’t put in a dollar bill, I put in 3 quarters."
"You put in 3 quarters?"
Didn't I just say that? "Yeah, I put in THREE quarters."
He looks at me strangely. "Um, you do know the sodas cost .75 cents, right?"
My annoyance sky rockets to an entirely new level. Who is this guy and why is he talking to me like I'm stupid? My right hand goes on my hip and I point to the machine with the other. "Of course I know that! It clearly says .75 cents right there. Do I look like I’m an id…."
Pause…
And then, "Ohhhhh, three quarters. Seventy-five cents. No change. Sheesh, I AM an idiot."
He replies shaking his head, "Well don’t expect me to argue with you."
He looks at me like:
*sigh* I let him have that one. One - I don't know who he is. When you work at nepotism central, you gotta be careful about on whom you unleash the snark. Two - I was embarassed as hell, I'm 35 years old and can't count. Five - my soda is getting warm.
Oh well. Happy Friday! I'm fintna crack the tab on this caffeine and go to town.
