Here, at my work, is a soda and snack machine. It dispenses candy, snack foods, and bottles of soda on a merit based system.
You put in your money, you gaze forlornly at the glass, not really seeing the cookies, bacon and noodle rations, but deciding slowly which you think you want. You press buttons and make a selection, but this is merely a formality. The machine comes momentarily to life.
It weighs several factors: how badly do you seriously want this item; what have you done today to deserve it; are you of a social class in which you can truly appreciate it; how heavy are your boots, and what is your likelihood of kicking in the glass? About six times in ten, it decides you are worthy and may have the item you have selected. Sadly, those four times in ten, people walk away and swear not to come back.
When they do come back, it is often with a roll of quarters and a determination to obtain what they think they should have. It is a lucky thing for them, then, that putting additional moneys into the machine can help your case to get your gum. Or whatever.
When I approach the machine, as I often do, I always want the king of the snacks, the Hostess Fruit Pies. I don't care the flavor, when I can get them, I am a happy serf. The machine, in its infinite wisdom, has only dispensed them to me twice. Always since, it gives me a bag of stale popcorn and a nickel change.