Vending Machines

For one reason or another I found myself having to bring Ethan to work with me.  Fortunately, the bank branch where I work has an enormous lunch room in the basement, complete with a kitchen, couch and vending machines.  Ethan had come prepared with things to keep him occupied, so I left him with specific instructions related to movement and behavior and went back upstairs to work.  Keep in mind that this basement lunch room was used by the entire staff of this three-story building, not just the branch staff where I worked.  Many of the others would not know who Ethan was or why he was there.  I checked on Ethan periodically, each time reminding him not to bother people and each time he would ask, in vain, for quarters to use the vending machine.

A little while later my boss called me into her office.  She closed the door and sat down behind her desk.

“I have to tell you what Ethan did,” she said, in a very serious voice.

Oh my word.  My heart skipped a beat.  Well, it's been nice working with all of you.

Suddenly, the meeting took an unexpected turn.

She had come down to the lunch room to find Ethan, arms at his sides, leaning his head against the glass of the vending machine starring at its contents.  He let out a tremendous sigh.  Without looking up and in his most pathetic voice he said,

“I would ask you for a quarter but my dad says I'm not allowed to.”

- Circa 2010