What’s the deal with campus vending machines?

I would go as far as to call myself a vending machine connoisseur. Brave statement, I know, but as my fellow Lamron editors will tell you, there’s little I wouldn’t do for a delicious bag of Munchies or some perfectly sweet Black Forest fruit gummies. I have been seen on occasion last semester making the trek from the Union to neighboring buildings because not only were the vending machines in the mail room not working, those on the top floor were busted as well: “Card Not Accepted,” “Invalid Card,” “Card Declined”... where does it end?

I was willing to look past the faults—I was willing to move on with my life and accept that vending machines are such an essential part of my lived experience that having a little difficulty finding them was all part of the adventure. That was, however, until the first-floor vending machine of Welles stopped serving Sweet Serenity chocolate chip cookies.

Every Monday and Wednesday as Associate Professor of English Ken Cooper gave our class a five-minute break, I would skip merrily down to the vending machine to grab a bag of cookies that can only be described as heavenly. As someone who strictly prefers freshly baked, soft, delectable cookies, the fact that I not only found the Sweet Serenity cookies acceptable, but amazing, was nothing to ignore. What is there not to love? The bag is perfectly sized so as to not be a rip-off but also not give you a tummy ache; the cookies themselves are always perfectly intact with only a chipped cookie here and there, and never one ground to a pulp at the bottom. 

They were everything to me—and hear me, dear reader—trust that my cry of anguish upon seeing them missing from Welles shook the heavens and woke Cthulhu from his unwavering sleep in the deepest depths of the ocean.

And, of course, it doesn’t end there. Not only were the chocolate chip cookies missing, but in their place was God’s final mistake and the harbinger of evil: Sweet Serenity caramel chocolate chip cookies.

Now, before you say anything, don’t take me for a fool. As anyone with sense would say, I love some caramel here and there in my life. My favorite drink from our very own Starbucks is the Caramel Ribbon Crunch Frappuccino, so understand when I tell you that Sweet Serenity caramel chocolate chip cookies spit in the face of not only chocolate lovers, but caramel lovers as well. The caramel is solidified, dense, processed—nothing like the creamy, rich experience one would hope for with the perfect mixture of sweet and salty. The chocolate chips are overpowered and nullified, and the cookies themselves are smaller and thus lose that connecting tissue that carries the enjoyer from one candy to the next. They are the worst, and the fact that not only someone at Sweet Serenity put their seal of approval on it, but that the vending machine company here on campus had the audacity to replace one with the other shows that we are, indeed, on a slippery slope heading for the abyss. 

If your personal Hell isn’t having to walk across busy roads for just a chance to find a snack to carry you through the day, it’s something else—something far worse that is sure to make the angelic choir that weaves our universe together shriek and break. Do not buy Sweet Serenity caramel chocolate chip cookies, and if you see any more of the normal, godly plain chocolate chip cookies, please email me at lamron.arts@gmail.com.

Godspeed, my friends.

Thumbnail Photo via Managing Editor Emma Mincer