It was that afternoon kind of hunger, too far from lunch to be avoided, too far from the end of the day to be ignored.
“Did the vending guy come yet?”
Dimash looked up, then showed off his Snickers. The slot had been empty in the morning. “About half hour ago.”
“Good,” Terry said. They’d been out of his favorite since Tuesday. “Jalapeño chips, here I come.”
He passed Mindy in the hall, coming from the breakroom. “Hey, Terry,” she said. “About that time, isn’t it?”
“Yep. What about you?” She was on her way out, but still empty handed.
“I tried. Mine got stuck.”
“That sucks. Why don’t you go up to accounting?”
“Nah. I actually have some salad left in the fridge.”
“Bo-ring,” Terry said.
“Yeah, but you know what they say. Summer bodies are made in the winter.”
She shrugged and walked off before he could tell her this was his summer body.
At the machine he immediately saw Mindy’s Baby Ruth wedged up against the glass. Ironically, his chips were right below it. Too bad he wasn’t getting the item above, he might have been able to knock it loose. Digging the change out of his pocket, he took a glance. Oatmeal raisin cookies. No, thank you.
Seventy-five cents. E5.
“What’s up, Terry?”
“Hey, Burt.”
The mechanism whirred as Burt went by. Terry turned back in time to see his chips start moving.
“Yesss.”
Except it was only the bottom of the bag that was moving. The top was somehow pinched in place against the underside of the shelf above.
“What the hell?” he said, thinking of the vendor. “This guy. Okay.”
He jingled in his pocket once more.
Seventy-five cents. E5.
The mechanism whirred again, and now the second bag was pushing on the first.
“Here we go.”
But when it was done, all it seemed to do was pinch the first one tighter.
“You gotta be kidding me.”
“Ooh, that looks like a mess, Terry.” Dave was somehow frowning and smirking at the same time.
“Yeah. Hey, you’re not in the mood for some oatmeal raisin cookies, are you?” he asked, though he wasn’t convinced even that would do the trick.
“No, but it looks like a real goldmine for the first person that is.”
Not if I have anything to say about it, Terry thought. Out of change, he reached for his wallet as Dave moved along.
One dollar. E5.
The mechanism whirred a third time and this time he was sure to stare at it, as if the machine wouldn’t dare defy him to his face.
The third bag pushed. And pushed, and pushed. And now the two in front were so smashed against each other it looked like one or the other was about to pop.
“This is ridiculous.”
The one in front was now completely horizontal, it’s bottom pointing straight at him as though he could just reach gingerly through the two millimeters of glass and pull it right out.
One more dollar. Just one more.
E. 5.
He didn’t even want to look this time, so he closed his eyes. He heard the sound yet again, and now it was accompanied by the strained sound of plastic-coated bags rubbing against one another.
Then a shifting made him open his eyes. A bump, then a thud so fast he didn’t see it happen. It wasn’t his chips. The bag in front had been pushed up so high it had nudged Mindy’s Baby Ruth.
He reached through the little door and grabbed it. Despite himself, he had to laugh.
It had cost him $3.50, but at least Mindy wouldn’t have to finish that salad.