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Grade
10

There had been teddy bears of every color except their natural shades, orange foxes in blue pinstriped suits, raccoons in top hats and colorful waistcoats, fluffy yellow ducks, and countless others. Now, it was grinning crocodiles. One grinning crocodile.

Twenty-fourth street station was losing its last few commuters, but its years-old claw machine refused to let its final tenant leave The announcement that the last train would be leaving in ten minutes echoed through the station, but the station’s last commuter of the night paid it no attention.

Craig watched the grinning crocodile slip once again out of the grip of the machine’s tarnished silver claw. Too focused on his prize, he didn’t notice how his eyes were burning from hours of staring into the bright lights, or that the earlier buzz of commuters rushing home had faded to silence. His backpack, usually strategically protected between himself and the machine had long since been snatched away by a faceless thief. A casualty of his inattentiveness. 

The crocodile’s cracked-open jaw crashed down onto the walls of the chute, and rocked backwards into the box. Craig was too tired to kick the machine or give any show of frustration. He didn’t need to check his watch to know it was sometime past eleven, hours later than he usually arrived home. Soon he would have to leave the machine for the last time. He would have to ride the empty subway nine stops to his apartment and tell his wife, who doubtless would still be up, waiting for him with a cold plate of dinner and an icy expression, that he had lost his job. 

By habit, Craig reached into his pocket for another token, forgetting he had just used his last one. His next habitual move was to his wallet, which housed only a few cards and a single bill. That old relic of a token machine only took cash, so he took out the bill, relieved to see its value was five dollars. At the same time, the absence of other bills troubled him. He had no more cash other than that, and no clue how much money was left in his rapidly diminishing bank account. 

The last five dollars felt clammy in his hand. The machine next to the claw machine distributed tokens to use for the claw machine. Five dollars meant twenty tokens. Craig wondered if every token the machines traded had passed through his hands at this point. He fed the machine his five dollars, but when he turned the knob for his anticipated flush of tokens, only five were spat out. Five tokens, instead of twenty. 

This time, Craig cursed and kicked the machine, half hoping it would cause the fifteen tokens he was owed to roll out. A security guard standing across the station cleared his throat in warning. With a red face, Craig gathered up what wasn’t even a handful of tokens, and stepped back to the claw machine. 

The first token slid into the machine with a clunk, followed by the start of the claw machine’s merry tune.

It started with the teddy bears. It was the last day of a hard week, the last week of a hard quarter, and the last quarter of his fourth year at P & P. A disappointing fourth year. 

Had he been over-optimistic to expect a promotion? Perhaps, if apparent hints and compliments by his supervisors meant less than he had convinced himself they did. 

Still distracted by disappointment, Craig let himself be pushed through the crowds in the station like a boat slapped around by the sea. He was pushed and bumped around by unsmiling commuters until he found himself pushed against the side of a claw machine, where plush teddy bears were piled in a jumble and, through the glass, he could see a man hunched over the machine controls, navigating the claw towards a teddy bear in the far right corner. The teddy bear slipped out the claws the moment they rose, and the man slunk away from the machine, rejoining the crowd of commuters.  

Craig slipped to the front of the claw machine and examined its controls. They were simple enough, why not give it a try? Determined to best the man who failed the capture a bear, and hoping to get a gift for his daughter, Craig stayed at the machine all night, abandoning his original plan to get off the subway a few stops early and return home drunk at midnight.

He didn’t win a bear that night, or any night for the next two years. Instead, he began to spend his evenings at the claw machine, a clenched fist around the joystick, telling himself he would stop once he got a toy for his daughter. As his eyes followed the movement of the claw, he would think over the events of his workday, going over the highs and the lows (the lows rising in number over time as the highs decreased), and the injustice he felt on those days when he was once again passed over for the promotion he believed he deserved. 

 Calling it a waste of time was unfair, Craig felt. It was a chance to relax, de-stress, and do something that would put his mind off work. He felt some stress at the claw machine too, but it was a different kind of stress. A healthy, harmless stress. This time, everything was in his control. He had the tokens in his pocket and the controls in his hands. He didn’t need to worry about the whims of his supervisor or the reports of customers. 

When he passed by the machine or any one of its countless twins throughout the subway system on outings with his family, he would keep his eyes away from it, as if he was avoiding the eyes of a person he didn’t wish to speak with. If someone else were trying their luck at it, he couldn’t bear to watch, lest that person succeed where he had failed.

Then, the claw machine, too, became a poisoned place. Instead of being a place of refuge, where he could review his day and return home refreshed, it began to add to his daily stresses. The nerves he felt playing at the claw machine, nerves that had once been almost welcome, became overwhelming as he failed to win a single toy. He felt guilty about the time he spent there, hunched over the machine as that man had once been, letting his wallet get lighter as the crowds diminished behind him.

Tearing himself away from the machine after round after round of failure, his mind felt foggy and warm, his legs were stiff, and he could never bear to meet the eyes of the man at the ticket counter, who he knew watched him every night.

When the teddies disappeared, he tried his luck with the foxes, which morphed into raccoons, then ducks, and now, crocodiles. 

His shaking hands ruined the first attempt before he got the claw near the toy. His grip on the joystick slipped and the claw dropped down, closing its taunting fingers around empty air. Craig and the abandoned crocodile watched as the claw rose, mockingly empty, and sauntered over to the chute where it dropped its empty contents. His first token, wasted.

Craig took out his second token and dropped it into the machine, hoping to finally to redeem himself with his second token.

It was his wife who suggested he go for the job at Peet and Pearson, a publishing agency specializing in textbooks, that was making the headlines for its sudden acquisition of a number of floors in a skyscraper in the middle of the city.

“They’re growing fast, and I hear there’s lots of room for upward movement there. Most people see themselves promoted within the first two years.”

“I don’t know… maybe they made a mistake.” Craig said, still incredulous at the idea that he had gotten an offer. He had applied on a whim, to P & P and a number of other companies in town, but this offer had been a surprise. “It’s so far away too,” he frowned, “I won’t be able to walk to work like I can now.”

“Don’t make that a factor,” his wife laughed, “you don’t want to be rooted at the same company going nowhere for fifteen years. And it can’t be that far, nine stops on the subway, tops.”

She was right about that at least. Their apartment was nine stops exactly from Peet and Pearson’s main office, the skyscraper they made headlines for purchasing years earlier, and nine stops exactly from the claw machine Craig would become well acquainted with.

The crocodile was motionless as it was raised up by the claw. There was a sort of kinship he felt with this toy, the only one left, so close to being chosen. He couldn’t leave it here. Craig refused to breathe, lest any change in the environment jeopardize his crocodile. The claw began its inch towards the chute. Seconds tugged away at the speed of hours in Craig’s head. Closer, closer…

The grin of the crocodile seemed to fade slightly as it slipped from the grip of the claws, falling back onto the floor of the claw machine. Craig exhaled sharply. Why did he think holding his breath would contribute in any way? It was a fruitless exercise.

The third token was dark and grimy, making the lettering imprinted on it impossible to read. Craig wondered how many tokens were in the claw machine at the moment. How many people had triumphed before him? And how many had failed… 

“Third times that charm, isn’t it? Maybe next time…” His back was being slapped, and there was some kind of movement all around him, men and women in business suits with coffee mugs, but he couldn’t process any of it. 

His wife had been wrong. People weren’t promoted within the first few years here. Craig certainly hadn’t been. It was four years now. The first two times he shrugged it off, and congratulated his promoted peers, reminding themselves that they were more qualified than he. Going through school he had never been at the top of anything, so he wasn’t too fazed as he watched others rise through the ranks before him. Now it was just him.

Doug Willis, a second year employee who had just been handed a promotion, grinned at Craig. It faded as he failed to smile back. 

“You okay? I know it’s been a while…but maybe Carol has bigger plans for you. I’m sure she’ll ask to meet with you soon. She can’t throw you off to some other supervisor if she’s planning something big for you...you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, sure.” Craig pushed away through the crowd. He watched those with promotions grin happily and chatter about their futures. Even Doug, his attempt to try and cheer Craig complete, was mingling with his peers.  

Craig returned to his cubicle, the pile of folders he had been handed earlier to review still there. His computer screen was dark, having fallen asleep while he was away. The plant his wife had given him when he got the job, “to brighten up your desk a bit,” was saggy and brown. 

The crocodile thudded back down to the floor of the claw machine as it was being pulled up. The claw continued, unfazed, finishing its automatic transit to the chute. 

Two tokens left. Craig heard them clink together in his pocket as he reached for his fourth one.

 When his meeting with Carol finally arrived, she spoke softly, apologetically.

“It’s been good to have you in the company Craig. You showed so much promise when you started here, but your motivation seemed to drop off sometime around your fourth year. And your work and the quality of it just hasn’t been up to our standards. We’re going to have to let you go.”

That was two weeks ago. Carol gave him two more weeks at the company to train his replacement, a woman named Kate, two years out of college. She arrived two days after Carol gave him his notice. Craig couldn’t blame her for getting his job. Maybe she would be better at it. He recommended that she avoid taking the subway home, and bade her good luck with her new job. 

Craig rolled the last token around in his fingers. More interested in their role in activating the claw machine than their appearance, he had never taken a good look at them. A large star was imprinted onto both sides, with the words World of Toys lining the far edges of the token. 

He fed the machine his last token and watched the claw machine light up and sing for the last time. The crocodile stared at him as he hovered his hand over the joystick, then grabbed it for the final time.