There’s nothing more frustrating than having a vending machine deny you a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. On a Saturday night. On a Saturday night where, rather than slaving over a paper, you could be frolicking around celebrating your freedom. Instead, you find yourself crawling around on the floor, searching for your dignity.
It all starts when the clock strikes 3 a.m. And there are only a couple more paragraphs to squeeze out. Any normal human being would be sensible and call it a night. I, however, wonder if there are any Reese’s cups in the vending machine downstairs. At first, I’m a bit hesitant to venture down there and take my chances with another godless machine. I’ve had run-ins with faulty vending machines before, and after each encounter I tell myself that I will not waste my money on another one of these money-laundering schemes again.
But then I say to myself, “Sony, life is all about second chances.”
With that noble idea in mind, I sprint in desperation to the Great Provider. After hesitating for a bit, I give that machine a good stare before finally swiping my precious card. As the bar starts rolling out of the machine, I smile and chide myself for being so suspicious of this poor appliance which is clearly not responsible for—Wait, what’s happening? The noise has stopped. The ring isn’t turning. It can’t be stuck. Is it STUCK? What the—and I begin a tirade as the vending machine sits calmly and bears the brunt of my insults, and maybe some slight physical abuse.
At this point, I am pretty exhausted and decide that my colorful speech is probably not resolving the situation. But when I finally decide to hang up my pride, I see it. My poor little Reese’s cup, hanging helplessly from the claws of the ruthless machine of death. And that’s when I remember that I have a vendetta, a vendetta against this vending vortex of vice that I would valiantly vilify to vindicate my vanished victuals.
The fight does not go so well. And I return to my room a little more bruised than the machine, which I suspect is still laughing, laughing without a dent.
Now that I think about it, I should be thankful for just being alive. A friend recently told me that around two people die every year from “vending machine tip-overs.”
But my near-death encounters with vending machines have actually taught me about life. First, I have learned that I need to start eating healthy.
Second, I have learned that in life, you do not always get what you have worked for or deserve. At Duke, it could mean not getting the grade you want on an economics test after putting in hours and hours at Perkins. Maybe it means not getting that job offer from the consulting firm that you had your eyes set on for as long as you can remember. At some point, nearly everyone is denied an opportunity for some inexplicable reason and has to come to terms with that pesky, unforeseeable force, sometimes referred to as destiny.
Beyond Duke, I naturally look into the future and wonder what I will do if it’s my dream that is being denied to me. What can I do when my luck takes a detour and my hopes are hanging on a thread as forlorn and helpless as that Reese’s cup? I can stand my ground and fight back as much as I want to, but in the end will I be just as powerless, watching my dream waste away behind that clear glass pane?
I’d like to think not, or not all the time at least. There will be times when life will hand you lemons, sour lemons, and no matter how hard you try the lemonade just isn’t good enough. Times when you are being denied an opportunity that you thought you were destined to have. But there will be other times, better times. If you are lucky, there will be a family that supports you and friends that will not give up on you. Friends that will go down with you at 3:30 in the morning and help you fight that vending machine.
The dream may be hard to reach, but if you can see it, somewhere beyond that clear glass pane, then it’s not too far way. In the end, fighting for it makes the Reese’s cup taste just a little bit sweeter.
Sony Rao is a Trinity junior. Her column runs every other Thursday.
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