Dear Vending Machine Guy,
I like your yellow shirt. It's nice and it says, "I don't own a washing machine." I respect a man with a message.
But we need to talk.
Our office, almost 100 of us now, love Snickers. Almost without fail, if someone is sliding change into your 1980's vending machine, it is because they have a taste for chocolate, caramel, peanuts and nougat.
Not to mention the sayings on the wrappers - Nougatocity, Peanutpolis, Substantialiscious. These are funny and they give me something to talk about that isn't the weather.
What I am trying to say is that Snickers bring the office together.
But you don't care, do you? Because last time you came, you only put four Snickers in the vending machine.
Lou Bega has written more Mambo's than you put Snickers in the vending machine. So, of course, they were gone within hours. When I am knee deep in some Excel spreadsheet and I need a little chocolatahol - what am I supposed to do? Milky Way? Yeah I'll eat it but it's no Snickers. Milky Way is to Snickers what Saved By The Bell the College Years is to the original - it feels familiar but why is Bob Golic there?
So we managed to get by on or four Snickers, assuming you would see how quickly they disappeared and refill the machine with an acceptable amount.
In fact when you arrived last time there were emails sent and meetings skipped to see what kind of candy pleasure awaited us.
And then we saw three Snickers.
Three fucking Snickers?
I understand gas prices are high and the hurricanes mean we need to ration certain things - but if you ever walk into this office with less than 8 Snickers bars I swear to Jebus I will rip that shirt off and put it behind the 14 bags of pork rinds in that machine that haven't moved in 7 years.
Thanks for your time.