I'm at least worth a Mallow Cup

I work in the dungeon of a research building of a hospital, which basically means we're all the rejects who aren't becoming enough to have contact with patients. We're like the Children Under the Stairs of the hospital. The building we inhabit usually leaks from several of its cracks, and recently our fresh air valve got shut off because it was next to the sewer, and whenever it rained the offices smelled like a Diaper Genie. This also means that we get the reject vending machine. Not that I eat things from the vending machine very often, but the fact that it holds Chuckles, smokey beef-flavored sticks, and off-brand salsa flavored tortilla chips kind of makes me feel second-rate. One day, I aspire to have a job fancy enough that my vending machine will have normal stuff like Snickers bars.