My office has a soda machine, as many offices do.
A few weeks ago, for reasons unknown, a few of the popular brand labels on the machine were replaced with hand-written inserts. One of the inserts read "Grape Crush." I attempted to purchase one the moment I became aware of the switch, but alas, fate was against me and the machine stole my money.
Fast forward to this afternoon, when I was overcome by a sudden urge to ingest something with a color and/or flavor that does not occur in nature. It seemed the stars had finally aligned for me, because for once I happened to have a crisp one dollar bill in my wallet. I half walked, half ran to the lunchroom, inserted my dollar, punched the button that I knew would bring me at least thirty minutes of sugary ecstasy...and nothing.
So for the second time in two weeks, I had to call down to the front desk and explain that I had attempted and failed to purchase a grape soda, which helped our building services department come to the conclusion that there must be a problem with that particular button, which means that I must be the only person IN THE ENTIRE BUILDING who has ever pressed it.
And that is the story of how everyone found out that I am actually twelve years old.