Today was no different.
It was lunch break time at work and I had an errand to run which required me to go a brief distance from the office. Since both of my legs are quite operational and since my hover board is in the laundry, I walked the whole way. To keep a long story a little less long, the warm sunshine and brisk physical exertion made me hankering for a cool drink.
The line to get into Starbucks was longer than my list of excuses for being there, so I went back to the office where I had previously spied a vending machine with a cold bottle of Dunkin' Donuts mocha coffee in the employees lounge.
The whole half mile back to the office was occupied with my thoughts of having a refreshing, smooth, rich, bottle of cold coffee. I won't lie, I was smiling and whistling as I walked with high spirits knowing that bottle was waiting for me, safe in the loving care of a cold, noisy, Coca-Cola vending machine.
I finally arrived, sweating, whistling, and digging for some spare coinage.
Never have I felt so betrayed in my long history of short-term memories. That Coca-Cola machine held my precious coffee hostage for an extra dollar. "This is strange, Mark," I thought to myself (because I refer to myself by my given name, Mark, when I think to myself), "only yesterday you got a cold, lemon sweet tea for two dollars, but it isn't dispensing anything yet."
So in went a third dollar, followed by a repeat performance of pushing the button combo.
Now, the machine roared to life. But in a tease, the robotic arm stopped just short of the solitary bottle of bottled joy, and snatched up a tall can of Monster energy.
I'm usually a fairly strong-minded man. A man of even keel and cool temper, they say of me. But I'm pretty sure even the Queen of England heard me yell "Nooooooooooooooooooooo!" as if Darth Vader just told me he was my father.
There went three dollars. For a can of caffeine that I didn't want. I wandered back to my desk, dejected.
If you do a Google search on me, you might find out that I was pretty good at negotiating in college. Or, you might not find that out from a Google search, so here's the link to proof.
I thought to myself, "Mark," of course, by now you know why I prefaced it with that, "you're a negotiator. Negotiate something!" So after a heated argument with the president of the factory who builds the vending-machine-robot-arms and coming up empty-handed, I asked a couple of my close workmates. "Hey, Alex," I said to the one named Alex, "do you like Monster energy drinks?"
"No," said the one named Alex.
"Hey, Steph," I said to the one named Steph, "do you like Monster energy drinks?"
At this point, I felt like my future as a Monster energy drink salesman was really off to a great start.
"No," said the one named Steph.
"DON'T DRINK THOSE, THEY'RE BAD FOR YOU!" the VP of my department called from her office, effectively ending my career as a Monster energy drink salesman.
So back to the lounge I went to find the vending machine number to see about a refund.
"Hey you three random people sitting in this lounge," I said to the three random people sitting in that lounge, "does anybody here like Monster energy drinks?"
"I do," said one random girl.
"We don't," said the other two random girls.
"Why, what's wrong with it?" said the first random girl (WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO ASK EVERY TIME A STRANGER OFFERS YOU FOOD OR BEVERAGES, FOR ALL YOU CHILDREN READING AT HOME!)
"Nothing," I said. I relayed the previous 23 paragraphs to her in an infinitely fewer word count so as not to bore her.
"If you can get the vending machine to dispense that cold, Dunkin Donuts coffee, I will give you this Monster energy drink," I said as if I was a contestant on Shark Tank.
"Okay," she agreed with almost no resistance. Our complex bartering/trading contract was verbally sealed with a polite "thank you", and I returned to my desk, leaving her with her favorite energy drink (the name of escapes me at the moment).
A few minutes later, she appeared at my desk with my prized coffee. To her, it was probably as simple as putting money in a vending machine and pushing buttons, but to me, it was as if she won that frustrating little arcade game with the claw.
I did it. I successfully negotiated a trade deal with a stranger and didn't lose my house, my birthright, or my coffee. I haven't even read The Art of the Deal!
"Nobody back home would believe you, Mark," thought I to me. So I had to deliver to you, my faithful (and at this point probably exhausted) readers, proof that 99.44% of this story is true.
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| Meet Gabby (far right), the other negotiator who won an entire Monster energy drink (not pictured) just for buying a small bottle of coffee (center). I'm (left) so generous like that. |
And that is the story of how my afternoon was saved.
I bid Gabby farewell after cautioning her about the terrible health effects of Monster energy drinks (you know, like the Surgeon General does with cigarettes), but thanked her profusely for going the extra mile. I mean, she probably just wanted the Monster energy drink and cared not for my taste bud's well-being. But we made the best deal, perhaps in the history of deals.
Thanks again, Gabby. Salute!
