You put one dollar, absentmindedly into a vending machine. You don’t even really want anything that this sugary contraption has to offer, you really just wanted to get out of your chair, your cubicle for a moment.
There’s a Butterfinger at E6 that looks good, a Kit Kat at E8 and some fruit snacks at C2. All of these are fine options, none particularly exciting but enough that it’s worth wasting a perfectly crisp, nice dollar bill on.
And then, you see it.
That bag of Fritos dangling at A1. It’s wedged in between the side wall and the next Fritos bag in the row. You don’t really like Fritos much and you’re nervous about the prospect of the two bags both being more jammed in there than you can tell from your only vantage point. You weigh the pros and cons in your head and ultimately decide this is what life is about, these are the sort of risks your ex-girlfriend dumped you for never taking.
Knowing full well you could either end up with nothing or two bags of a corn chip you can’t fucking stand, you opt for the latter because two is better than one, in almost every single purchasing-related situation.
The spiral holder spins and you hold your breath. The dangling bag jiggles a little as the two bags are now both out of their aisle, but are caught between the side and front wall.
You got nothing.
Pissed off beyond belief over one dollar and snacks you didn’t even want, you look around to see if anyone has seen this crime against humanity, surely the first of its kind.
No one has.
Overwhelmed with rage, you violently shake the machine, your rocking coming dangerously close to tipping the machine. Then, it happens. Something in the heavens has broken loose.
You have two bags of Fritos. For the price of one.
Polar Opposite of this Feeling? Now having to eat those two disgusting bags of Fritos and the ensuing smell of your breath.