Andrea and I were on our way to an event hosted at a hotel recently. The day was stifling and the humidity, while not the thick morass you had to wade through during summer down in South Mississippi, was enough to drench my shirt as soon as I stepped out the front door. By the time we arrived at the venue, we were hot, soaked, and parched. Andrea wandered off to deal with event details, and I hit the hotel's canteen, pulled a can of soda for each us, and went to the front desk to pay for them.
The clerk looked at my purchases, and with the nonchalance of a 19th-century robber baron, said, "That'll be $6." I laughed. My internal dialogue was a string of expletives inquiring in what jacked-up reality do two 12-ounce cans of carbonated sugar water go for half a dozen Washingtons?
As a backdrop for my sticker shock, one of my favorite childhood memories was walking up to a Coke machine, dropping in two quarters, and getting back two Cokes - one for me and one for Dad. This modern day inflationary grift was an assault on my childhood.
I'm not gonna lie, I felt radicalized.
I contemplated leveling a tirade at the clerk, but my anger would have been misplaced. Since Hilton's CEO wasn't in close proximity, I let out a long cleansing breath and paid up. Running some quick calculations, I realized there was only a $0.02 difference between that Coke and some bottom shelf bourbons, so I tried my best to savor that pricey elixir.
Most of the time we're at the whim of market forces. Getting less, paying more, or getting priced out of the market altogether (I'm looking at you, Ford, with your crazy $100,000 Raptor-badged pickup trucks). Once in a while, though, the fickle financial gods turn a kindly eye upon us mere mortals.
Some years back, I was posted to the headquarters of a company where we serviced a number of Federal contracts. This building had a break room with a standard vending machine. One day, after I fed it three quarters in exchange for a slug of caffeine laced carbonation, I took a look at the can. Something about it looked suspect. It may have been the slightly faded colors or its overall dingy appearance, but it prompted me to take a look at the expiration date. It turns out the can dated from the prior administration.
I wasn't the only one who noticed. Water cooler talk was rife with jokes about the need to decant vending machine wares and let them breathe like a long cellared port. This prompted me to send off an email to HR requesting a restocking of vendibles, and, surprisingly, a few days later I was given keys to the device along with a note basically telling me to, "Handle it as you see fit."
*sigh
At that point I was not only the division's systems and network administrator and tier I - III desktop support, I was also able to add "Head Honcho of Corporate Vending" to my resume.
I proceeded to crack open the device, pulled the bills and coins, and ditched all expired product. With the proceeds in hand, I cruised to the nearest bulk buy store and loaded up on stock. Being the one in charge had its privileges, and I was able to ensure that Barqs root beer was a significant portion of the purchase.
As I was restocking the vending machine, I made sure the dispensing labels were correct. Another annoying shortcoming during the tenure of the previous "Boss of Fizz" was pressing "Coke" but getting dispensed some no name generic cola.
With my hands elbow deep in the innards of the machine, it dawned on me. My mandate from the penthouse was not to ensure its profitability; it was to make sure it was sufficiently stocked with product not old enough for back to school shopping.
Running the numbers on what it would cost to break even and maintain the current level of inventory, I found I could drop the purchase price down to a single quarter. I made a last check of the labels, set the new price, and closed her up.
Almost immediately there was a steady commotion around the machine as staffers discovered the fresh merchandise and rolled back pricing. For the rest of my tenure at that company, that device was fully stocked and reflected pricing likely not seen since the summer of '75. That's how, for the briefest of moments, I brought the slimmest sliver of light to my coworkers seeking a brief respite from coding and spreadsheets by making the supply chain work fully in their favor.
There's an admonishment in the Bible that basically says, "If you're able to do good, then do good." Mission accomplished.
Welcome to Rock-tober.
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