Styrofoam Cup

The soda vending machine at work has been broken since Monday.

Most know that I do not drink anything carbonated (except beer, as infrequent as that is). This still holds true, but occasionally I will buy a bottle of water from the machine.

This is where you chime in and say ‘Water? From a vending machine? Use the tap, you arrogant jerk!’

We actually have a filtered water tap in the kitchen. The problem lies in the container. Normally I would buy a bottle of water from the vending machine and then use that to refill with the filtered water. Unfortunately, I was sick all last week. For that reason, I threw out my water bottle with the intention of buying a new fresh one. Naturally, I put my dollar in only to discover the machine said ‘Not in Service’ in its frustratingly mute block letters as it proceeded to eat my dollar. Talk about being a day late and a dollar short.

The only other containers I could use to fill with water were paper bowls and styrofoam cups. I’m normally not open to open containers of any liquid. I’m clumsy only at the worst possible times. I make myself so neurotically stressed out over stupid things like that, I get over precautious and end up making myself clumsy at, once again, the worst possible times. Styrofoam cups in a work environment are a symbol of neurotic stress to me because I’m petrified I’m going to spill whatever liquid it contains all over my computer, mp3 player, phone, monitor, network switch, paperwork, crotchular area of my pants and anything else in the immediate area that may cause me to lose work or draw otherwise undue attention.

With little other choice in site, I filled a styrofoam cup with filtered water and brought it back to my desk. I did not put it down. Instead I cleared an area of my desk. Not an area near my computer or anywhere close to anything, but literally a spot on my desk that is behind me when i face my computer. I blockaded one side of the space with an empty cardboard keyboard box and the other side has over a foot of clear space before a large dam of old specifications has been placed so no spilt water may damage my working livelihood. I placed the styrofoam cup in the center of this quaratined area of my desk.

Despite my neurotic precautions, I continue to look back throughout the day to make certain I have not somehow mentally forced the water to spill all over that area of my desk, all the while thinking to myself, ‘Is the vending machine fixed yet?’