Wes / Vending Machine Pinball

Wes

He was scared today. It was a busy day at AnonCo today (actually, I'm thinking of changing the code name to "Tontines R Us").

He talked a lot, kind of a running dialog that veered into the sad and scary sometimes. The office is a weird place. If I'd been anywhere but work, I would have squeezed his shoulder or reached out for his hand or hugged him. When he ran past my cube, he would stop for a minute.

"When do you leave for Houston," I asked.

"Oh, I gotta go tomorrow night. I don't like this, I wish...well. Never mind that."

"And you're staying how long?"

"I'll be back on Tuesday."

"Is Mrs. Wes going with you?"

He grimaced. "The dog and all...she's gonna stay home."

"Wes, there are pet sitters."

"I know, I know. But the dog - you know, they just walk the dog and bring it back. And then they leave."

"Not all of them. Some pet sitters overnight. I used to when I was a pet sitter."

His eyes almost lit up. "Now you tell me."

"Keep it in the back of your mind," I said. "I'm willing."

And then he was suddenly sad and said, "Maybe I'll have to stay down there and just die. The money from the insurance is enough to pay off the home equity loan. Mrs. Wes won't have to worry."

"I think she'd probably rather have you, Wes."

He straightened himself up, took his glasses off to rub his eyes.

"You're in my prayers, Wes."

He took out a hanky and blew his nose. "Well. Now you have to tell me about the pet sitting thing, huh?"

"Yup."

Before I left, he gave me his personal email address. "They have PCs set up everywhere in the hotel and the hospital."

We'll be chatting.
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Vending Machine Pinball

Every day at three o'clock at Tontines R Us, in the little section where Geraldine's people sit, there seemed to be a hellacious racket coming from the floor above us. The building has raised floors, so every sound is amplified.

Two days ago, May, a 6'5" Chinese guy, and Wes decided to check it out.

Scattered throughout TRU, there are little alcoves and niches with soda machines and snack vending machines. The one closest to us, it turns out, is whimsical in nature and gives out snacks as it sees fit.

The guys who go to this machine haven't figured out that there are people behind the wall of the alcove.

Wes and May found out that there are people shaking the daylights out of the vending machine. And it doesn't matter, because the stuff is so stuck and the machine so cleverly designed that there's no way to get the snackies out.

Except.

Wes is a great collector of TRU ephemera and one item in his collection is a very thin, plastic ruler, much like the ones I used to use when I read core dumps. (Yes, I did. Yes, I am that old. Core dumps of IBM 360s. Gah.) In an operation of surgical precision, the two of them managed to get three bags of chips, one bag of cookies and a Snickers bar.

Every single day, someone tries to get something unstuck from the vending machine.

I've seen a couple of the guys who walked away fuming. They have all been of short stature (Short Man Syndrome) and one of the guys looked frighteningly angry. All have been so bottled up and furious that I get out of their way, fast.

Our glee was cut short when Geraldine's boss caught us sniggering in the alcove. He just glared at us. Still, we caught the message.