The Rembis Report and Other Fascinating Topics - Volume LXXI

What now, Mike?

Wow! Right out of the gate with the questions. No preamble to warm you up. You just want it fast and furious, don't you?

We, the people, are extremely busy. What is so important this week that you feel compelled to write about it and tell everyone? Did you finally get your Funyuns?

As a matter of fact - I did!

I knew you were on the edge of your seats in anticipation, and I am happy to report that I did indeed receive my wayward bag of crunchy, tasty goodness.

In case you are just tuning in, you may like to read part one of this adventure to find out how it all started.

So, without further ado - The Funyuns Sanction, Part Two.

Upon return from my retreat to the south, where we commenced in support of our troops who came to the rescue of those in peril, I once more visited our break room, as was my general lunchtime routine. The storm had been treacherous, and the reverberations were felt throughout the region. Even here, where we relied on the constant comfort of available snacks at our fingertips, it was not to be. The shelves were still empty.

It was immediately apparent that the supply chain had broken down. How long would it be before the vending machine people would restock? Nobody knew. LaVerne's note on my behalf still clung to the machine, waiting to be read and acknowledged.

I asked her, "Have you heard from them?"

"No." said LaVerne, our dutiful receptionist. She quickly glanced away careful not to shudder in my midst.

What must have happened to them? I dare not let my mind wander into unknown territory. I merely hoped that they were unscathed and would return soon.

The next day. Nothing. In the adjacent machine, 20-ounce bottles of Coca-Cola had run out, and only 12-ounce cans were available. The weekend came and went. On Monday, nearly every snack was gone, save for the peanut butter crackers and high protein nutrition bars that nobody likes.

An empty vending machine is a sad sight. What if it never gets filled again? What then?

My mind raced. What if the vending machine people never return? Could something so inconceivable truly happen?

Happily, this was not to be. Our beloved snack vendors returned to our break room with snacks aplenty. The machine was fully stocked. Everything you ever wanted.

But - NO Funyuns!

My heart was dismayed, but I feared not. Even though there were none for sale, surely, the vendors must have left a bag for me with LaVerne.

She told me "They did not."

"Did they not see your note taped to the front of the machine?"

"They did not," she said again.

I found this quite troubling. Obviously, LaVerne's note was completely ignored. My first thought was to pen a stern letter of my own to the owner of the company.

"He is blind, so he did not see your note." LaVerne was quite certain of this. She told me that the gentleman who serviced our machines is indeed blind. He visits us with the aid of a seeing eye dog and a driver, who may or may not have seen the note.

My next thought was to pen a stern apology letter to every blind person on Earth. But what should it say? How will they see it? What would be the point?

Besides, it is just a bag of chips.

I was as surprised as you are to hear that a blind person handles our snack machines. But we should not be. Blind people, while impaired, are not necessarily disabled. Blind people perform all sorts of jobs and find ways to get around. They can do lots of stuff, but reading a handwritten note is not one of those things.

The note may not even have still been there. It may have fallen off, accidentally, or deliberately, but it does not matter. The Funyuns were not restocked, so he probably did not have any, and would not have been able to fill the order anyway. It did say that I did not want money back, so I did not get that either. Oh, well. I will be more careful when considering snacks in row C next time.

But Mike, you said you got the Funyuns.

Indeed, I did. And I owe it all to LaVerne.

Our dearest LaVerne, beside herself with grief, took great pity on me. She sympathized my lamentation and attained a bag of Funyuns from another source. The good woman gave them to me and refused my reimbursement.

"Just not mentioning it again is repayment enough," she told me.

LaVerne thanked me for the times I have covered the front desk for her, and I assured her that I would always be available to do so any time, whenever the need arose.

So, I finally got Funyuns, a snack I had not tasted in years, and you know what? They were okay. In fact, they were pretty good. They weren't as great as Nacho Cheese Doritos, but what is?

In many ways, our unseen vending machine people and receptionists perform a sort of magic for us every day, whether we know it or not. The ever-moving stock within vending machines bring us many new surprises. Those folks who answer our phones and take our messages do their best to do a great job, sometimes going above and beyond, to make sure we get what we want.

I plan to make a point now to remember National Receptionist's Day, which falls on the second Wednesday of each May. That is half a year away, but the seasonal holidays are upon us, so please be sure to remember that special someone who helps out at your office or assists you in your work. I know I won't be forgetting LaVerne this year.

I wonder what kind of chips she likes.

Thanks for reading.

If you are new to the Rembis Report and would like to read any of the previous issues, PLEASE CLICK HERE to access the archives. To read it from the beginning, PLEASE GET A COPY of The Rembis Report: An Observation.