At morning break today…
Greg, whose first language is Spanish, was browsing one of the food vending machines in the breakroom. It’s a pretty big machine, almost half automat, with buttons that let you spin the whole interior rack around to view the paltry samples of out-of-date $3 sandwiches, little cartons of milk, or cans of cran-grape juice.
Lawrence, who is about 6 foot, 115 pound and smokes like a chimney, strode in hungry and nicotine-starved. It’s people like Lawrence who make me think about getting into vending. He eats one item out of the vendomat at morning break, two items for lunch, and another item at afternoon break. Then there’s all the Dr Pepper he consumes. He must spend at least $10 a day in the breakroom.
Lawrence leaned against the edge of the machine and watched Greg whirl the shelves. Whrrr. Whrrr. Lawrence looked like he was getting hungry enough to eat Greg.
Finally, Lawrence asked, “You looking for a burrito?”
“What deed you say?” said Greg.
By now Lawrence was grinning. “Are you looking for a burrito?”
Greg raised his voice. “You looking for CRACKERS? I think I saw some in this machine.” He slapped the smaller vending machine next to the vendomat.