2008 Woodie Awards
Soda dispensers really rip my rump!
John Brownlee
Issue date: 11/21/02 Section: Opinion
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It is an evil, forbidding guard between you and that first rush of caffeine in the morning, totally ignoring your pleas for refreshment. That eerie, angry blue light that calls out, "I have all the soda and you can't have any!" Soda dispensers have long stood as an enemy of anyone who wanted an ice-cold beverage in a hurry.
First, let's examine the device from start to finish, starting with the method of payment. You have a choice of coin or cash. The coin slot is generally the friendliest part of the machine, accepting most coins, only to return that last dime to the change slot. After repeatedly attempting to argue/persuade/threaten the machine into taking the coin, you press the coin return button in hopes that maybe the infernal device simply didn't like the order you placed the coins in it.
When you press the coin return, it's about a one in 50 chance of getting all your change back. If luck is on your side, the change will fall, half of it spilling out to roll under the machine, the other half stuck against the back of the tiny hole. This hole is designed so that only those who have starved to the point where they require any form of sugar to live can retrieve the change. So, you stretch and prod at the machine, scraping off skin and muscle in a vain attempt to retrieve the 10 cents.
Giving up, you haul out your wallet and grab a dollar bill. If you have a five or twenty, you might as well go grab a six pack (perhaps of something a bit stronger) and save yourself the embarrassment of asking everyone in the building if they have change. You slide the bill in, and it slides it out. For the sake of space, I'll gloss over the many attempts to flatten it further, stretch out the dog-eared corners and tape up the rips and just say that the dollar finally goes through.
At this point, you select the drink you want. As you lean down, you realize that whoever is responsible for punching out the circle that lets the orange empty light shine through has failed miserably at their task, and your eyes widen in horror as you see the only beverage remaining is Caffeine-Free Diet Mountain Dew.
First, let's examine the device from start to finish, starting with the method of payment. You have a choice of coin or cash. The coin slot is generally the friendliest part of the machine, accepting most coins, only to return that last dime to the change slot. After repeatedly attempting to argue/persuade/threaten the machine into taking the coin, you press the coin return button in hopes that maybe the infernal device simply didn't like the order you placed the coins in it.
When you press the coin return, it's about a one in 50 chance of getting all your change back. If luck is on your side, the change will fall, half of it spilling out to roll under the machine, the other half stuck against the back of the tiny hole. This hole is designed so that only those who have starved to the point where they require any form of sugar to live can retrieve the change. So, you stretch and prod at the machine, scraping off skin and muscle in a vain attempt to retrieve the 10 cents.
Giving up, you haul out your wallet and grab a dollar bill. If you have a five or twenty, you might as well go grab a six pack (perhaps of something a bit stronger) and save yourself the embarrassment of asking everyone in the building if they have change. You slide the bill in, and it slides it out. For the sake of space, I'll gloss over the many attempts to flatten it further, stretch out the dog-eared corners and tape up the rips and just say that the dollar finally goes through.
At this point, you select the drink you want. As you lean down, you realize that whoever is responsible for punching out the circle that lets the orange empty light shine through has failed miserably at their task, and your eyes widen in horror as you see the only beverage remaining is Caffeine-Free Diet Mountain Dew.