Warm Soda

Okay, this morning I had nothing to write about. Not a damn thing.

Then, I went to the soda machine down the hall, inserted my dollar and got a warm cola. And getting a warm cola frosts my hiney. Instead of a frosted hiney, I want a frosted cola.

I mean, when I see a cola machine (I would say Coke® machine, but I really don't want to get sued by Pepsi, Coke, or whomever else wants to sue my frozen ass) and it is plugged into a wall, I expect a cold soda. I mean, a 20 ounce cola costs $1, and I figure part of that cost is because it is cold and on demand. For about $3, I could get a six pack (warm) and stick them under my desk. And those sodas would really be "on demand." I would not even have to go down the hall.

So here I have a warm soda – no warning on the machine, no discount. There are refrigerators that can tell you that you don't have milk, but a soda machine can't tell you that they have warm sodas. I guess that's because the soda machine's job is to sell its sodas, and it is a whole lot harder to hawk sodas when they are warm. I wonder if they drink warm soda in Europe (sort of like warm beer).

Anyway, I got so steamed that I call the 800 number on the side of the machine. On the plus side, the steaminess thawed out my ass. On the negative side, the guy asks for the account number associated with the soda machine. After painfully explaining that I am a customer, not a vendor, the cheerful person informs me that she cannot do anything for me, a lowly customer. If I had the account number, she could direct me to another phone number where I could register a complaint.

About now, I am thinking one of those mini-refrigerators are looking darned good. Instead of only including soda in the machine, I may need to keep a spare beer or two. For days like this one.

End note: did you know that a hinny was "the hybrid animal produced when a female ass (jennet) is crossed to an older smaller stallion." You learn something new with spell-check.