I happened to be at the high school this week waiting for my daughter’s violin lessons to finish when I heard some loud thumping going on in the main hall. Curious, and let’s face it, nosy, I walked out and saw a group of teenagers pounding on the vending machine.

Before I could say anything, a teacher appeared at the other end of the hall. “Don’t beat on the machine,” she said.

One of the girls in the group complained that whatever she’d bought from the machine was still stuck inside, and she’d enlisted the help of a bunch of boys to get it out.

“I’m sorry, but you still can’t beat on the machine,” the teacher said. “Go to the office tomorrow morning, and they’ll give you a refund.”

The group moved away from the machine, so I went back to into the music room’s hallway to continue waiting. Not five minutes later, there was a huge crash in the main hall.

I rushed out from where was sitting to see teenagers scattering like rats from the vending machine now lying on its side. Did they really think running was going to help them? A teacher had warned them just a few minutes before to leave the machine alone. No doubt being a teacher, she could ID every kid in the group.

Stupid, stupid, stupid—they broke the vending machine over something that probably cost less than a dollar. And the teacher had told the student if she went to the office tomorrow morning they would have given her a refund. Now she and her friends owed the school a new machine, which I’m going to go out on a limb and assume cost more than the messily thing that had been stuck inside. A little patience on their part could have saved them from a huge expense.