Fanta

I'm not much of a soda drinker these days.  I used to drink far more of the stuff when I was in school, but soda just doesn't hold that much of an appeal for me anymore.  Sure, I'll feel like having some every now and then, but my drink of choice on a day-to-day basis is definitely not soda.

And over time, I've realized that I prefer some of the sweeter sodas.  In particular, I've found that I like orange Fanta (side note: I was really tempted to start this post with, "I don't always drink soda, but when I do, I prefer Fanta," a la the Dos Equis guy).  I know it's not common for that to be someone's favorite soda, but then again, I've never claimed to be all that normal.

So, given my uncommon preference, I was pretty happy to find out that the vending machine at work has my soda of choice.  Unfortunately, I know all too well that "uncommon" doesn't necessarily sell well.  I walk by that vending machine every single day, and my beloved Fanta just isn't selling very well.  I'm pretty sure they don't restock that machine every day, so it's not likely that the entire supply is disappearing every single day and then being restocked the next day.

All of this leads me to a dilemma.  I don't drink soda very often, so I don't want to buy a bunch of soda.  If I sit idly by, though, the people stocking these machines are bound to conclude that it's a poor business decision to keep that particular soda in the machine.  Of course, knowing my luck, the vending machine stockers will make this decision the day before I suddenly get an urge for a soda.

In a way, it's worse seeing those orange cans in that vending machine.  When they weren't there, I didn't spend more than two seconds looking at the vending machine.  After all, why would I care?  There was no temptation, no promise of eventual gratification.  Now?  I see the soda, I think about the odds that they'll be gone the next time I want one, and I ponder whether or not I should just spend a dollar to keep the demand up.

It's like a wrapped present with my name on it, attached to a ticking time bomb with a malfunctioning count down display.  I know there's something inside I want, but I don't quite want to open it.  It could very easily disappear soon, but I have no way of gauging when that's going to be.  Do I cut the red wire?  The blue wire?  Or do I just walk away and pretend I never saw anything?

I'm not sure what the right answer is, but I do know that all of this pondering has led me to several conclusions:

• Ignorance is bliss
  It's my anticipation of an eventual outcome that's causing me consternation.  If I didn't think about it at all, I'd be right back to not looking twice at the vending machine.  I blame my high school Economics teacher for explaining supply & demand curves in an easy-to-understand manner.
  
• This is what I get for being picky
  Life is a lot simpler when you're willing to work with what you're given.
  
• People at work have terrible, terrible taste in soda