In my work area, as with most work areas, we have a confectionary vending machine which ably caters for all the staff's 'snack-attack' requirements. When I first started, the fellow that I was to replace took me aside and led me to the machine.
" This...is the Motherlode, Buzz. All you have to do is place your dollar in the slot, press the button for your selection lightly 'til you feel a 'click', hold the button a couple of 'secs and presto...you get your goodies and a credit for your dollar lights up. Then you press the return button and you get your money back ! "
I was definately impressed. Never having practically 'fiddled' with machines like this before, I was never inclined to take advantage of this kind of information as the old conscience tended to hold me back somewhat. But one night late in our shift, short of funds and craving a chocky fix, I fiddled the machine and ended up with a packet of chips and a chocky bar, all at a saving of three dollars. Beside me stood my Corporal, stating that he was looking to take a 'couple' of bags of chips home to the family that night. He fingered his dollar coin into the slot and began 'fiddling' the vulnerable machine. I had turned away for a second, and turning back, noticed that he'd managed a miniature jackpot with a half dozen bags of chips and two or three chocolate snacks.
" Shit Dave, got enough !" I was a bit partial to giving moral nudges every so often.
" Why did Edmond Hilliary climb Mt Everest, Buzz....' cause it was there ! "
With that, he nimbly pocketed the chocolate and grasped his chips in one hand. Reaching back to the machine, he pushed the ' Coin Return ' button looking to retrieve his money. It made no noise. He pushed it again and still no return. Soon he was pushing the button frantically, utterring profanities at a dozen a minute.
“ You wouldn’t believe it Buzz, “ he said with a look of utter disgust, “ ...the mongrel bastards ripped me
orf ! “ He kicked the machine, turned and strode off with his bountiful booty, shaking his head in disbelief and utter, utter disgust.
Stories Worth Wiping Your A** With
Whether you're making a deposit at the stank bank, dropping a return at the squat shop, or conducting a brown business meeting, these perfectly timed tales provide the literary fragrance your privacy deserves. F
