My great (?) first date

Recent discovery: Going through the interview process for a job (and this not for just any old job but rather THE Job, capital THE, capital J) is exactly like a great first date. You get all fidgety, dress to impress, and hope you don't have anything stuck in your teeth while you laugh nervously. You try to remember everything during the actual moment, but are sweating bullets and concentrating on not sounding like a dork, all the while being captivating, yet secretly making sure your palms are not too sweaty by wiping them on your skirt.

Then comes the post-date. The minute you part company, you feel exhilarated, you call all your friends, rehash everything that happened, imagine your happy future together, then you start analyzing the entire meeting, over-analyzing it, re-over-analyzing it, reminding yourself of the magic moments, that great chemistry (Wait, was it just you who felt it? Was he bored...no, nono, it was GREAT. Well, it was ok. It was good), wince a bit at the not-so-hot moments, but remain convinced that THIS it THE ONE. Then you realize: you have to wait for the guy to call.

Totally powerless, yet wanting to make a small move to show your keen interest without letting yourself be too vulnerable during your wait for 'the call', you write 'the thank-you letter'. It's light, intelligent, articulate, perfect, and sent the very next day. Hey, within 24 hours is the norm, I googled it. I am not rushing things, window of opportunity baby, just making sure the guillotine don't slam shut. I am perfectly by the book. Classy. Yeah...*pat on back*

Everything is even more askew since you had your interview on a Friday; the promised (but was it sincere? It was...wasn't...was...you replay the handshake over and over) "call next week" encompassed a weekend that would drag on and on as you do laundry with a passion and dream of the happy union to come (dum-dum-dee-dum, dum-dum-dee-dum). Only after that does the 'it's-quick-but-could-happen-Monday' come, then a 'should-be-anytime-now-Tuesday', until the excrutiating 'it's-going-to-be-today-for-sure-Wednesday', which, at this point is becoming the 'it's-only-Thursday-and-this-week-goes-until-Friday'. You check your phones and email hourly, morning, noon, and night. Paranoia sets in. Shit, another 23 year-old skank has stolen YOUR job!

And you don't want to look elsewhere, THIS is what you want, nothing else compares, and just thinking of looking elsewhere could jinx it, that would be giving up, it would be like a BETRAYAL, how could you? Tsk tsk...and what about the magic? Remember how great it was (I can't remember a thing, it's bloody 5 days and 9 hours ago!) Wasn't it great for him? Then why, WHY won't he call?

My desperation is an obvious sign of how much I really want this job.

Mr. Vending machine kicks back

So the machine decided to give me some chocolate, which was very unexpected and quite sweet, considering all that change I had inserted such a long time ago. Seeing as how it was in such a giving mood and seemed in full, functioning order, I seized the opportunity and asked:
- "Mr. Vending, if at one point, I hand you another series of coins, I would greatly appreciate from you, the vending machine, a candybar in return."
- "Hmmm" said the machine, its lights dimming behind the glass full of goodies, sleepy all of a sudden.
- "Well, considering you ARE a vending machine, I figure it would be a nice thing for you to do and that you know how such a thing works."
- "Huh...zzz...."
- "And, well" I continued, "I really would LOVE a Crispy Crunch, and will press the corresponding address, C2, in the hopes of getting that bar..."
- "..."
...?
- "But, umm, I realize, sir, you are so terribly tired, and so, when I insert my money, I will not even punch in a code, and let you pick whatever candybar you wish to give me, whatever is less trouble for you, the value does not even have to correspond to the amount I give you...really, it is no bother to me at all. I am just REALLY looking forward to being able to purchase a candybar. Oh, won't a candybar be wonderful...It would make me so happy to receive one, any one, yummy, a CANDY bar!"
Mr. Vending answers unintelligibly, now muffled under his pillow:
- "UUUrrrrgh."
urgh?
He repeats, annoyed: "Are you STILL talking about making me give you a candybar?"
- "Um, well yes, I'm looking quite forward to it now, actually"
- "But then...argh." He sighs, "then, that would mean that, at one point, I would have to give you a whole candybar".

I stare down at my hands, cupping the surprise chocolate I had received on a whim prior to our conversation, and wonder if I even want to open it. It was a gift from Mr.Vending, remember. I notice it's quite different from the average fare this type of machine distributes because it is not a candybar, but rather a small box, which, through the unopened see-thru plastic wrapper sealing it shut, I can see contains only the finest, home-fashioned chocolates. I look more intently at the cute, tiny box; it has an expiry date, 09 JA 01. That means it is best before this date.

I don't know if I will be able to open it, by then, even if chocolate is wonderful and would make me so happy. When I inserted money into the machine, I promptly expected to receive one of the items behind the glass. That is how vending machines work!