Who Writes Trustpilot Reviews?
★☆☆☆☆ humans like me.
The fundamental flaw of Trustpilot reviews is that you can’t trust Trustpilot reviews, because anyone who writes Trustpilot reviews is fundamentally flawed.
What drives this keyboard-army of vengeful lamewads? Who are these hobbyist nitpickers sitting on the self-elected court of public opinion? Wasting away their finite time on earth drafting up nickel-and-dime grievances. Send.
Alright, I am laying out my own penny-stock gripe here - Send - but negative Trustpilot reviews are the lowest form of human expression. What a dismal contribution to the written word. That’s coming from an author whose most cherished works are a 10-part anthology of times they’ve crapped themselves.
I guess there’s a difference between a single death ✯ flung at the marble lobby of a multinational - and taking down a family-owned bistro who cocked up your carbonara. That’s it, stick it to ‘em. You are the Erin Brockovich of delayed desserts.
Listen carefully, you can make out their clipped nasalness, as they review that review aloud, again, satisfied. Send. So, who are these muckraking fault-finders? Nobody comes out and admits ‘Critiquing the false smiles of underpaid workers is kinda my jam’.
In my mind, there is no clearer deathmark of an old bore. That first unchecked use of the word ‘service’ is digging an absentminded toe into your own grave. There’s only a few decades of relished dissatisfaction before you’re watching the backfill hammer down on your casket through the stiffened fringe of an inverted bobcut. The last thought of your soul coiling into the infinite, a whine about the quilting of the coffin lining. Taffeta, bloody typical. That is not what I ordered.
I left a regrettable trust pilot review, while alive, once.
My restaurant confidence is lower than my general confidence, which, depending on the lay of my scattered braincells that day, is often lower than most. I’ve never been one of these restaurant ballas making restaurant balla moves, like asking the waiter for a menu, or whatever it is that’s expected of me.
This was the kind of establishment where the food is nice enough that the staff are not. As the man of the couple, ostensibly, I was charged with approaching the lectern of judgment. I was packed into my one branded polo shirt, in the hope that the small emblem of a crocodile on my left tit would substantiate my human worth for the headwaiter.
“No, I don’t have a reservation,” I said, angling my logoed breast toward her.
“Oh, wow.” Like every Maître d’, she was as pretentious as the word Maître d’. The audacity of my wanting to eat in the place she sold food took her aback. She took my kindness for weakness, accurately, and showed me to my seat, on the curb outside.
Later, in a rare fit of 9-pint coherence, I dipped my pen in the latent venom of a thousand unlived midlife crises.
Every snip at someone else is just a snip at yourself.
We are all one. We are all one-star on our day.
Who writes trust pilot reviews?
Me, apparently.
If you liked this… check out:
The True Meaning of Generosity
Jerking off as a Grown-up
I’ve Ruined My Kid’s Lives - and they aren’t even born yet
‘Critiquing the false smiles of underpaid workers is kinda my jam’. classical, bravo - well done!
Hilarious. I don't stay on the line after a customer service call to review the service either but I might the next time. Nah,, probably not. I am going to write a Trip Advisor review, very positive. That's me.