The other day I was doing laundry at Comstock Hall—the usual: late on a Monday night, with five-or-so loads to process. Now I know it’s my own fault for 1) saving this particular chore for weeks and weeks (until I run out of towels and/or underwear), and 2) generating so much laundry in the first place (if only I could confine it to just one outfit a day, every day: think of what a tremendous savings that would be…) But no, sadly, I am a fashionista, one who is not yet able to part with a clear distinction between evening and daywear, and one who just does not own enough boxers (or briefs?) to last out five weeks.

…So I’m the laundry room around ten o’clock at night, starting the business, and, to my horror, all but two of the machines are booked! Needless to say I felt both exasperated and betrayed that laundryview.com had lied to me again. Like any rational college student, I decide to take out my frustrations—to ‘eat my feelings’ as it were—with a little late night snack. On my way back to the Fourth Floor, I stop by the vending machines for a little bit of window shopping; after all, vending machines—especially UDS/Aramark vending machines—are to foodservice as Saks Fifth Avenue and Neiman Marcus are to retail: one can rarely splurge for that Armani suit, so one often settles for the Kohls special. But tonight I was feeling especially wealthy (or especially in the mood for some luxury items with which to emotionally eat), and decided to pop for the “Chipotle BBQ Snack Mix,” at the ungodly price of $1.25. (Now you know I’m a college student.)

Having two dollars in cash, I feed the first bill into the scanner. Ironically, the machine decides it doesn’t like my cash. After several more tries, with both of my ‘Washingtons,’ I resolve to turn my assets into quarters—by feeding them into the machine directly adjacent and pressing the coin return button. A flawless plan …or so I thought. Here comes the hubris in this situation: that second vending machine decides to eat my dollar, recognize it, and fail to return it in any form (in quarters or otherwise) to its rightful owner. Damn! So, I do whatever any hero in crisis would do: I look through the second machine’s goods to find the next best alternative, because I sure-as-hell ain’t gonna have “Chipotle BBQ Snack Mix” this evening. What I do find is a slice of cornbread that looks innocuous enough, at the even-better price of $1.75! (I’m being sarcastic)

With remorse, I feed that bastard of a machine my second dollar. Thankfully, it consents to giving me its cornbread, and, as a bonus, that one remaining quarter. I take it up to my room, whilst grumbling and muttering curses under my breath, and, upon arriving, analyze the nutrition facts of this little piece of frozen corn rock I’m about to consume. SEVENTY-ONE PERCENT OF MY DAILY VALUE FOR SATURATED FAT?!? HOW’S THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?! In that 1.5” by 3.5” by 2” cube, I see no longer a delicious snack, but a sentence of impending death: “One Minute on the Lips; For-ever on the Hips.” And that was the event, not the laundry it turns out, that ruined my Monday.

Cheers,
Brady M. Nyhus

P.S. I hope you enjoyed reading this post. Welcome to the world of “A Neutral Place to Stare.” Updates should be regular and forthcoming. Check back soon for more of life’s quasi-satirical minutiae…

Tags: Comstock Hall, laundryview.com, saturated fat, vending machines