it was dark outside, dark inside. By 9am I had reached the chocolate point. There was no way the day could proceed without an infusion. Little did I know the day needed to darken before the bliss. We're a healthy lot at the office. Apparently so healthy that we don't consume enough to have a
I get to the machine, find the chocolate that I want (that isn't hiding behind some lame selection, man I hate that!), insert correct amount, very carefully punch in correct digits and wait. I may have pressed my nose to the glass and drooled a bit as I watched that twirly spring uncurl until...the candy stopped right at the edge. You've got to be kidding me! There it sat, taunting me, leering at me even. A co-worker, alerted by the high pitched screams, came to offer some advice, 'hit it' she said, and then she proceeded to beat the hell out of the machine. I was afraid we were going to be those people that the warning labels represent. Seriously, I took a step back for fear of being crushed, but this 5' tall woman sat there smacking and rocking the machine with all her might, sadly to no avail. She clearly understood my desperate need for chocolate. Her parting note, although glib on the surface, actually demonstrated the true depth of her understanding, 'just buy another one, you know you'll eat both'.
Genius! And luckily I had the change to do so (seriously who carries cash these days?). Purchase repeated, and two, two magical packages dropped out of the machine and into my desperately clutching hands. Now, at this time, I didn't fully appreciate the wisdom of her words, so I kicked a few puppies on my way back to my PWA (go ahead, ask me what it means I know you want to). Once ensconced, I peeled back the wrapper...only to discover this bonanza:
That package needed to read 3.75, not 3! The difference was soon moot as it quickly (as if by magic) turned to this:
And the day was allowed to proceed.