Johnny Sampson

It finally happened. A designer on staff, desperate for sweets, decided to purchase candy from our long-neglected office vending machine. The only "food" left in the machine was Gardetto's snack mix, Knott's Berry Farm raspberry cookies, and two bags of Skittles. She wanted the Skittles. Surprisingly, she passed the first hurdle: The machine took the dollar. The machine is known for accepting dollars only after 37 consecutive and very specific attempts. She then typed in her choice. However, as the screw-like delivery system wound to the drop point, the Skittles would not drop. Fiending, she asked Nipper, the self- described "front desk pretty boy," for help. Having wrestled the machine before, he assured her he could retrieve the candy. Wearing tight pants (as usual), he took hold of the machine and, with devil-may-care abandon, huffed and puffed and rocked the machine forward and back, violently, three times: Blam!! Blam!! Blam!! All his blamming alarmed the office—was this the Big One? Was the ceiling caving in?!? Nope. Just Nipper "trying to help." It worked, though. The Skittles dropped. Our coworker got her treat. Nipper for president!