I’m Not Going Down Without A Fight…

Okay, so it’s been a wild last couple days but we’re back on the blog bandwagon. Today’s blog is going to be somewhat all over the place but that shouldn’t be anything new if you’re a frequent visitor. Anyway, here we go… For the record, I used to work as a copywriter for a used car dealership is western, MA. I have since left that job and have since also realized that finding a new job sucks. Anyway, I picked up a warehouse gig in the meantime for handjob money and the environment is dangerously close to prison. The ATM (average teeth per mouth) in that place is borderline deplorable but that’s neither here nor there. The big issue deals with their vending machine policy… Evidently, company policy entitles each employee to a 15-minute break. In other words, you get five minutes to walk out to your car, five minutes to reevaluate life in the driver’s seat, and five minutes to walk back. If you choose to ignore the walk to your car—and consequent 5 minutes of introspection—in favor of the trip to the break room, you’re afforded a decent amount of time to grab a snack from the vending machine. Sadly, this is the highlight of my day. I spent the first four hours literally looking forward to the moment where I get to choose between Apple nut trail-mix or original. It’s a hell of a ride. Side Note: Is there anyone worse than the person who brags about bringing their own trail mix? It’s nauseating. Anytime I buy a bag of Planters, there’s always someone in the dining hall that feels the need to deliver a 5-minute soliloquy on why they implement the assortment of dried fruit and nuts that they do. Like Donna, no one gives a fuck you sometimes “cheat” and add Reese’s Pieces. You’re not Anthony Bourdain. You threw a bunch of pistachios in a bag. Shut the fuck up and go back to the Sudoku you’ve been working on since Monday… Anyway, that was the route I took today. I walked up to the vending machine, inserted my dollar, and began typing in the selection for Skittles by accident. Quickly, I averted chaos and pushed in the refund button, but there was no refund to be had… Normally, I would just bend over, take this unfortunate event up the ass, and be on my way; however, given everything I’ve described above, this was not something I was about to just let slide. The woman behind me nearly shrieked at the incident. This woman acted like the vending machine just raped my dog for God’s sake, but I wasn’t at all turned off by her zest because I could tell we were on the same team here. She informed me I should head to HR before break was up (so 2 minutes). I head to HR and the dude at the counter tells me there’s nothing they can do and I should call the vending machine company. Like what, dude? Call the vending machine company? What the fuck is the vending machine company going to do? Mail me trail mix? Send me a check for 85 cents? Anyway, I got the name of the vending machine company—Foley Food Service—and gave them a call. Evidently, they don’t work on Tuesdays between the hours of 9AM and 5PM so I sent them an email. The email reads as follows:
Foley Food Service, My name is Joe Romano and I am doing my best to hide the steam barreling from my ears right now. People often speak of corporate greed/corruption but I have yet to experience it so violently first-hand. Earlier today, during one of my shifts at ********’s warehouses in *********, MA, I was taken advantage of. There are few things I look forward to more in life than my daily 11:10 AM trail mix break… however, things went unspeakably awry this morning. Long story short, your super duper high-tech machine ate my dollar. When I brought this to the attention of my HR staff, they informed this was none of their jurisdiction and directed me to your contact information. For the record, this isn’t really about me at all. This isn’t about monetary compensation. Hell, this isn’t even about trail mix at this point. It’s about the resiliency of the human spirit. It’s about not screwing over the little guy. It’s about life. As I said, I’m not sending this email for me. I’m sending it for every doe-eyed kid in middle America with a dream, for every Joe six-pack out there looking for a break, and for every boy and girl on this spinning sphere of ours with the naive perspective that the American dream is predicated on meritocracy rather than the monopolization of the vending machine industry. Understandably, this may seem unreasonable or a tad superfluous; however, I think that it’s actually you who should feel so. What I’m requesting is a refund, either by direct deposit or check. I’ll accept either. If this request is not observed, I can confidently say it will be the LAST time I use one of your vending machines, as I am IRATE right now. Do the right thing… Thank You, Joe
Now, I’m assuming most of you are thinking I’m taking this a little too seriously, but let me ask you a question: Where does it stop? Am I just supposed to sit back and allow this bullshit to happen? If the vending machine companies can get away with this, what’s going to stop them doing more? Do I look like an asshole? Then why was I treated like one…? Stay posted… – Joey Boats (@joey_boats) You love fantasy sports but getting tired of the same thing every year? Stop it. Join ThriveFantasy today where you bet on only the top tier players and gain points based on prop bets. Sign up today using the Couch Guy Sports link NOW & get in on the action. (Must deposit a minimum of $10 upon signup and ThriveFantasy will MATCH that $10) SIGN UP HERE

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