Our hallway friend gets abused on a regular basis. It's perfectly normal to hear classics sounds like 'KAPOW!' and 'CRACKAKOW!' coming from the hallway as paying college students take out their academic frustrations on the poor dispenser of tooth-destroying sweets.
To be fair, the machine regularly screws people over:
"Put a dollar in me and watch your snack of choice be delivered to you, O' hungry one.
Wait...wait...oh darn...there's just this small hitch...the snack you wanted just got stuck in my silvery spirals of DOOM.
That's right, your snack is just going to dangle in front of you. What are you going to do about it? That's right, curse and moan, and then leave empty-handed and a dollar lighter...sucker."
Basically, the machine will spin its gears but then the bag of chips you wanted will get snagged on its way out. You can try another dollar to get your delicious treat, but....FORGET THAT.
So someone who is about to fail their next midterm tends to go with Plan B, which is to $%^& the machine up in the hopes of jostling their cholesterol ridden food out of its cave. We've watched people rock the machine back and forth, pound the glass that protects the food, and generally have their way with it.
Just this Saturday, I watched a high school kid of the street lying on the floor next to the vending machine, with his arm up to the armpit inside the machine. I'm sure you can lose an arm like that, is it really worth the trouble? No allowance money, you say?
Anyhow, we all love the machine dearly because it supports our biological processes. I'm proposing to call it Robby for now, to help garner respect for it.
It could be worse than just mincing our snack orders; it could just decide to blow us all up next time we use it.
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