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Vol. XIX No. 7 April 2004 |
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The Machine and I Hidden deep within the bowels of The Juilliard School building is a vending machine. It lurks in dark shadows, quietly beckoning to everyone to partake of its fluorescent-lit offerings: candy bars, Life Savers, cookies, and gum. When money is inserted, each item in turn leaps forward into the dark chasm below to be removed and devoured. Hundreds of items are neatly lined up waiting, lemming-like, to play follow-the-leader and make that final plunge. For the most part, these mechanical servants are pretty much alike, but there was something different here. Something no one else could notice. This machine was treating me as special. I first became aware of its preferential treatment when I got back double the change I was supposed to get. I didn't think too much about it at the time—maybe someone had forgotten to take their change—and then it happened again a week later, and again the next day. A few days after that, I got two Kit Kat bars for the price of one, both dropping at the same time. I remember thinking to myself, "Hey, hey, Thursday, my lucky day!" But from that moment on, I made the extra effort to come to this particular machine for all my vending needs.One afternoon—a Thursday—my favorite machine gave me the candy bar I wanted and returned my money. Without too much thought, I put the money back in and selected again. Another Kit Kat dived forward and I, once again, got all my money back. Two free Kit Kats! My head whirled. I stood back a moment. A man in a green coat came along and inserted a dollar bill. I edged closer, watching as he pressed the letter-and-number code for what he wanted. His choice dropped. He took it out and checked the change slot. Empty. He hit the machine a few times, checked again, and walked away mumbling to himself. When he was out of sight, I ran up and checked. There was, indeed, no change in the slot. I put the money I had gotten earlier back in. Again, I got my selection as well as money back. I did it again. And again. Each time, it rewarded me with a Kit Kat bar and all the money back. So far, I had five candy bars and hadn't spent a penny. I wondered if I could empty the whole machine with only 70 cents?I looked around nervously, wondering if anyone was watching. No one. I looked back at my machine. The light blinked. How much stuff does this machine hold? Two hundred, no, maybe 300 items. I was too excited to count. How long would it take me, one by one, to clean the whole thing out? I felt like a kid in a candy store. My conscience was beginning to nag. What would Mom have said? What would I do with all that candy and gum, all those cookies? Sell them to friends? Eat them myself? Give them away? Who cares! They would be mine! Mine! Mine! My palms started to sweat. I took a deep breath. I had to think this through. Would it be the right thing to do? I don't know. But wait a minute!How many times had I lost money in one of these damn machines? How many times over the years had I put money in and gotten back nothing? I mean, nothing! Nada! Zip! Not the candy, not the money—nothing! In the long run, was I ahead? Ha! I doubt it! But this was it: my moment! This was my big chance to wipe the slate clean ... once and for all! Or at least, put it in my favor for a long, long time."Excuse me!" I whirled around. It was the guy in the green coat. "This machine is not working." A security guard stood behind him. "I lost my money ..." I stared at him blankly. "I lost 30 cents!" Pushing me aside, the security guard jiggled the return lever a few times and checked the change slot. Empty. He motioned for Green Coat to follow him as he walked away. Suddenly he stopped, turned around, and walked back. He reached his arm around the side of the machine to the back. I heard a "clunk" as the plug hit the floor. The fluorescent light flickered and went out. "Pain in the ass," he mumbled. "Come on." They both walked away.From that day on, things were never the same between me and my machine. I'd return to it from time to time, but it never again gave me free candy, an extra item, or my money back. Once—I think it was a Thursday—I pressed the wrong code by accident, but a Kit Kat bar fell forward anyway. Was my machine doing me a favor for old time's sake? I like to think so.
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