Michael B. Duff

So the A-J has these vending machines — not just your typical modern snack apartment building, but the older, glass-topped manual models with a crank — sponsored by some charitable organization.

These machines have been here for decades and to my knowledge, no one has ever actually tried to eat anything from them.

Well…

I’m on a diet these days, and I needed something more substantial than a stick of gum but not quite as sinful as a candy bar. Those 25-cent blobs of dubious candy seemed like a perfect compromise.

I put my money in, turned the crank back and forth and came back to my chair with a generous handful of sweet red pebbles. I put one carefully in my mouth, judged it to be unique but edible, and dug in to the rest. As I was eating, one of the reporters came in and caught me mid-scarf.

She looked at me with a mixture of horror and admiration, like I was one of those guys on Fear Factor. “You’re eating candy from that machine? Do you know what it is?”

*munch* *munch* “No idea.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

*chew* *chew* “Nope.”

This was last week. Today the same reporter catches me headed to the break room and says, “Oh! Those things you were eating? They were Boston Baked Beans.”

This is why I love reporters. They can’t walk away from an unanswered question.

But she went on, “And that thing you thought was an FDA inspection sticker? It says ‘Go Cowboys, 1974.'”

P.S. Before anyone freaks out and calls the health department I should add that although our reporters maintain the highest standards of integrity in print, some of them have been known to exaggerate things here in the office, if only to make the online guy jump.