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THE "I DESERVE IT FOR FREE" MANIFESTO

THE “I DESERVE IT FOR FREE” MANIFESTO: A SCREAM INTO THE VOID OF ENTITLEMENT

(By a Service Industry Survivor)

Listen up, you self-appointed Sovereigns of Something-for-Nothing! Your decree – the “I Deserve It For Free” Manifesto – isn’t a revolutionary tract. It’s a toddler’s tantrum typed out by a keyboard warrior raised on participation trophies and delusions of grandeur. We’ve seen your kind. Oh, have we seen you. You swan in, radiating the unearned confidence of a minor royal visiting the peasantry, and drop the bombshell: “After that minor inconvenience/imagined slight/I breathed oxygen near your establishment, I believe COMPENSATION in the form of FREE STUFF is my divine right.”

The audacity isn’t just breathtaking; it’s suffocating. Did your latte arrive 47 seconds later than your inflated sense of urgency demanded? Manifesto invoked! Did you perceive a slight chill from the server who’s been on their feet for 9 hours dealing with creatures like you? FREE DESSERT DEMANDED! Did you graciously spend $12.99 once in 2018? CLEARLY, a lifetime supply of premium services is now contractually owed! You wield your “loyalty” like a rusty shiv, threatening bad Yelp reviews unless the tribute – YOUR freebies, YOUR discounts, YOUR upgrades – is laid at your feet immediately.

What twisted economics academy granted you this PhD in Freeloading? Newsflash, Sunshine: Businesses aren’t running charitable foundations dedicated to your personal enrichment. That sandwich? Costs money. That software license? Pays developers. That hotel room? Funds cleaners, receptionists, and the bloody light bill! Your “manifesto” isn’t savvy bargaining; it’s economic illiteracy wrapped in sheer brass neck. You scream “Customer is King!” while conveniently forgetting KINGS ACTUALLY PAY FOR THINGS. Your crown, madam/sir, is made of tinfoil and audacity.

The worst part? The weary resignation in the eyes of the underpaid teen or overworked manager you’re berating. They’ve read your manifesto a thousand times. They know the script: the escalating tone, the faux outrage, the subtle (or not-so-subtle) threat. They’re mentally calculating whether the cost of your free meal is worth avoiding the 45-minute screeching session you’ll unleash if denied. It’s emotional blackmail, pure and simple. A shakedown disguised as customer feedback.

So here’s OUR counter-manifesto: Your existence is not a coupon. Your minor inconvenience is not a golden ticket. Your “loyalty” demonstrated by one purchase five years ago is worth precisely ZIP. The world doesn’t owe you squat because you showed up and consumed oxygen near a cash register. PAY. FOR. WHAT. YOU. CONSUME. Or take your entitled, grubby little manifesto and shove it where the sun don’t shine – preferably far, far away from anyone just trying to do their job without being treated like your personal serf dispensing feudal favours. The revolution is over. The bill has arrived. Pay up or push off.

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