Monday, October 25, 2004
the truth about gumball machines
Growing up, we did not have much money. This became evident when we went grocery shopping. We shopped in warehouse-like grocery stores where we bagged our own groceries. I believed that a blue box of genuine Kraft Macaroni and Cheese was a luxury item. We bought one two-liter bottle of Coke per week. When we were shopping with my mother, she would bribe us to get us to behave (after having children, I believe that all mothers bribe for behavior in grocery stores). But rather than offering us a special treat from the grocery aisle, we were always lured by the promise of twenty-five cents for the gumball machines.
The temptation of a quarter was enough to put me on my very best behavior. I was obsessed with the gumball machines, because one of them advertised the chance to win a real, working, spy camera! The camera was displayed, pressed against the glass in all of its glory, the size of the palm of my hand, and just the thing to turn me into a neighborhood Harriet or Encyclopedia Brown.
Every week, I tried to win the camera. I peeked through the glass and located the plastic container that held the treasured prize. Slowly, as the machine emptied, the camera got closer and closer to the bottom. I tracked its progress, and pocketed my cheap, bendy metal rings and rubber pencil toppers with faith that each passing visit brought me closer to the coveted camera.
Finally, I prepared for THE day. I did extra chores to earn spare change. On our last visit to Albertsons, the gumball machine had been close to empty. I knew that a pocket of quarters would be all I needed to finally own the fabulous camera. When we got there, I rushed to the gumball machine and saw that the unthinkable had happened. Someone had come by and refilled the machine. The prizes that had been near the bottom - within grasp - had been pushed all the way back up to the top. The truth slowly dawned on me. Gumball machines are built to deceive. The prizes on the outside, the spy cameras that lure you to trade your money for a chance to twist the handle, will always remain just out of reach.
A few weeks ago, I was with my kids and they saw a row of gumball machines. They begged for a quarter so they could try their luck. I made an attempt to warn them. I told them that they would be disappointed, that gumball machine prizes are horrible. "Please", they pleaded. I handed them each a quarter.
My daughter got a bendy metal ring. My son got the worst gumball prize in the history of childhood.
"What is it?", he asked. I held the prize in my hand. "It looks like a baggie of blue dirt", I said. He was confused. "What do you do with it?" he asked. I told him that, without a doubt, he had received the worst gumball machine prize ever.
My son shook his head. "You were right Mom", he said reverently. "Gumball machines are a scam ."
Some lessons have to be learned the hard way.
The Worst Gumball Machine Prize Ever
The temptation of a quarter was enough to put me on my very best behavior. I was obsessed with the gumball machines, because one of them advertised the chance to win a real, working, spy camera! The camera was displayed, pressed against the glass in all of its glory, the size of the palm of my hand, and just the thing to turn me into a neighborhood Harriet or Encyclopedia Brown.
Every week, I tried to win the camera. I peeked through the glass and located the plastic container that held the treasured prize. Slowly, as the machine emptied, the camera got closer and closer to the bottom. I tracked its progress, and pocketed my cheap, bendy metal rings and rubber pencil toppers with faith that each passing visit brought me closer to the coveted camera.
Finally, I prepared for THE day. I did extra chores to earn spare change. On our last visit to Albertsons, the gumball machine had been close to empty. I knew that a pocket of quarters would be all I needed to finally own the fabulous camera. When we got there, I rushed to the gumball machine and saw that the unthinkable had happened. Someone had come by and refilled the machine. The prizes that had been near the bottom - within grasp - had been pushed all the way back up to the top. The truth slowly dawned on me. Gumball machines are built to deceive. The prizes on the outside, the spy cameras that lure you to trade your money for a chance to twist the handle, will always remain just out of reach.
A few weeks ago, I was with my kids and they saw a row of gumball machines. They begged for a quarter so they could try their luck. I made an attempt to warn them. I told them that they would be disappointed, that gumball machine prizes are horrible. "Please", they pleaded. I handed them each a quarter.
My daughter got a bendy metal ring. My son got the worst gumball prize in the history of childhood.
"What is it?", he asked. I held the prize in my hand. "It looks like a baggie of blue dirt", I said. He was confused. "What do you do with it?" he asked. I told him that, without a doubt, he had received the worst gumball machine prize ever.
My son shook his head. "You were right Mom", he said reverently. "Gumball machines are a scam ."
Some lessons have to be learned the hard way.
The Worst Gumball Machine Prize Ever
