If you wanna see the dark underbelly of capitalism, you don't need to go to a sweatshop in Bucharest or a brothel in Hanoi. You just have to go to an Accura dealership the day after Christmas.
I just wanted a cup of coffee and I know car dealerships have that stuff for free. I'll detail my encounters with hunger:
1) I walk in and two guys (one suited, one booted) ask if they can help me. They sure can.
2) While I'm getting coffee I make a joke about the fake creamer to a guy who turns out to work there. It also turns out he really wants to help me. I'm fine for the time being.
3) I sit in a vehicle. Some kind of SUV/Station Wagon blend designed by toddlers with playdough. I find Paradise City on the radio and honk the horn. Another guy tries to help me. We'll call him Stevie D. I tell him that the horn placement is a little fucked up. He laughs, pauses, and apologizes.
4) I go outside to spill some coffee on a sedan and look at the clouds. Stevie D follows me and wants to help again. I'm fine.
5) I come back inside to pretend to read some literature on Accuras. Stevie D tells me to wait a sec and he'll be right there to offer me the help that I've turned down twice now.
6) I try to leave and Stevie ABANDONS the customers he's sitting down selling cars to and rushes over. He asks if, before I go, there is anything at all he can do to help me. I can hear his stomach rumbling.
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