it’s only rock and roll

Today at work I took a 10-minute break. I take several of these each day. I understand them to be an important part of office life. I’m told they help stave off eye strain, carpal tunnel, sociopathic behavior and other such unpleasantries. On this particular break, I went downstairs to the place where our vending machines reside.  This is a pretty ordinary set of vending machines; however, in between Snack Time and the standard issue Coke machine is a very special vending machine. This is the latest in vending technology. Rows of bottles with the picture window out front, and no corkscrews here; the tenants here have a deluxe elevator that rises up, scoops them out of their hidey-holes, and brings them to me. Now, astounding contraption as it may be, I’m drawn to this particular machine because of its particular inhabitants: bottled Coke, sweet tea, your usual suspects of any such establishment. But the top row?

Rock Star energy drinks.

Now, like many males my age, I of course went through and energy drink phase in middle school. Gotta try every new flavor as soon as it’s out, talk about and compare with my friends and then rave about how jacked up we all are on these stimulants. I’m happy to say that I’ve moved past such childish ways, but I will always love the taste of Rock Star. Just staring at that gold-and-black can makes my mouth water. The catch?
Rock Stars cost 3 freakin’ bucks. Each.

Until today. You see, the top row of this machine, row A, is all Rock Stars until you get to station A6, which is where the Vitamin Water starts. And lets face it:

Vitamin Water is lame. That’s why it only costs 2 dollars.

But on this particular day, whomever was responsible for stocking row A, station 6, mistakenly stocked Rock Star instead of Vitamin Water.

You heard me right. Someone’s error equals out to $2 Rock Stars.

At this point, I began to imagine what Rob Bell would do. I don’t have anything against Rob Bell, but I’m admittedly not a huge fan of “Velvet Elvis.” I like some of the NOOMA videos he did, however. So now in my mind I see this mild ethical dilemma becoming a great story about some new, wild revelation I had in front of this machine. I see myself walking through some old ’50s diner talking about how many orphans my Rock Star money could care for over how much time. I imagine a hip video of me telling you this story, a sweet underwater trance beat behind me, random images of artsy, broken down Coke machines from the 1960s helping you see what I’m saying. I figure that somewhere in all of this is a cool, square-framed message about materialism or integrity. But then I stop myself for a moment. I look at what’s in front of me. The oppurtunity of a lifetime.

And then I put $2 in the machine.

And then I press A.

6.

Elevator goes up. Elevator comes down.

And I drink me a two-dollar Rock Star. And it may not be the sweetest, most spectacular Rock Star I’ve ever tasted.

But it was 2 freaking dollars. Who cares?