Kalah Allen

Oh. My. God. You, by dint of having 100 American dollars, qualified for Amazon Prime! You’re incredible. You can get goods and services and meals delivered to you in two hours or less! Maybe you’re a neckbeard from Amazon or Microsoft, but not always—sometimes you’re a grad student, or a house husband, or just doing your part in the nonprofit sector. It doesn’t really matter, because you’ve left the realm of mortals and become a god with the world at your fingers! So when I—a mere mortal trying to earn enough money to eat and pay rent by being an Amazon driver—come to your door with that stuff you were too lazy to get at the store, you have every right to be rude to me, or not tip me, or treat me like an ignorant rube who exists to do your bidding in two hours or less. You’re right: I don’t need your $5 tip as much as you do. You’re saving up to buy a new Oculus Rift or some shit, and I just want to buy food for my cat. And you’re right not to look me in the eye, or say “Thank you”—it might give me the idea that I could be worth something. You’re a god now. It’s a god’s right—nay, responsibility—to crush men down into worms and make them thank you for it. That’s the power of Prime.—Anonymous