This morning when I went to get my little white donuts from the vending machine, one of the most annoying things this side of paper cuts and Yanni music happened: The donuts got stuck. And I saw red.
So I did what any honest, hard-working American who had just plunked down 75 cents for a delicious six-pack of Mrs. Baird's powdered donuts would do: I began to rock the machine like a mad man.
As I was walking back to my desk, with my donuts and the satisfied feeling that I taught that devilish vending machine a lesson, I decided, you know what, I'm never doing that again. Because who wants to end up like these poor shmoes.
But the rage you feel is real, whether it's 75 cents in a vending machine or 50 bucks at the gas pump. Hey, can you get hurt kicking one of those?