Vending Unit C-4, Concourse B: Zero Stars. It Knew What the Coupon Said.
I have been banned from seven hotels. I have been asked to leave a funeral. I have weathered slander from the so-called workers at factjuice.com, who would not know a valid coupon from a decorative napkin. None of it — none of it — has prepared me for the institutional humiliation visited upon me by Vending Unit C-4, Concourse B, on the afternoon of this past Tuesday.
The coupon was legitimate. It was printed on paper. It had a barcode. The expiration date, which the machine's blinking red interface chose to fixate upon with the energy of a building inspector who has just discovered something, was subject to interpretation. Eighteen months is not, as I have argued to three separate bystanders, the same as expired. It is seasoned.
The slot rejected my coupon four times. On the fifth attempt it made a sound — a small, contemptuous chirp — that I can only describe as editorial. Pomelo, to whom I reported this incident immediately, agreed that the chirp was targeted. Quince said I was "projecting." Quince can mind her business.
Meanwhile, Tangelo and the rest of the citrus cabal at that rival rag continue to print their so-called "facts" without once investigating the growing epidemic of coupon-slot hostility in this nation's transit corridors. Cowards. Hacks. Fruit of a lesser rind.
Vending Unit C-4 receives zero stars. The Snapple I eventually purchased at full price was lukewarm, and I am enclosing this review in a formal complaint to the concourse authority, my attorney, and the manufacturer. I will not be made to feel this way by a machine with a nine-inch screen and no soul. I am Durian. I have never paid full price quietly.