Chloe Fellwock is a freshman advertising major and writes “Full Dis-Chlo-sure" for The Daily News. Her views do not necessarily agree with those of the newspaper. Write to Chloe at cfellwock@bsu.edu.

This month, I was delighted to learn that June 7 is National Doughnut Day. I was even more thrilled to learn about it from a tweet from one of my favorite spots, Dunkin’. I love their iced coffee. And on this day, they’d include a free doughnut with every beverage purchase.

“Free you say?” I said loudly in the break room at work, “I’m sold.”

I never pass up the opportunity to play the system. But as I would once again find out, the system will always find a way to play you.

I want to take a second to emphasize that I do not blame the employee. I hold no grudge against him. Maybe he was having an off day, or tired, or wasn’t able to hear well due to noise levels in the store. 

But I cannot stay silent on such suffering. To suffer is to be human, but I have my limits.

I rolled up to the Dunkin’ after a long day at work with my brother Mason, my partner in crime who had also had a long day at work. Not familiar with the Dunkin’ menu, we decide ahead of time that he will get a green tea since he’s not much of a coffee fan and we didn’t realize that they offer soda until it was too late.

I greeted the disembodied voice and asked it for a small Americano and a small mint tea, please. Then I inquired about the free doughnut deal to make sure we had our facts straight. The voice confirmed that we would, indeed, receive a free doughnut for each beverage.

Score, I thought, free doughnuts.

Oh, Chloe. When will you learn that there is no truly free product in a capitalist society? Everything has its price. The following conversation commenced:

“Ok, and what kind of doughnuts would you like?”

“A boston creme and a chocolate glazed, please.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“A boston creme and a chocolate glazed, please.”

“What doughnuts did you want?”

“A boston creme and a chocolate glazed, please.”

“Ok! And what were the drinks again?”

“A small americano and a small mint tea, please.”

“You said a mint tea?”

“Yep!”

“Sweet or unsweet?”

“Sweet, please.”

“You wanted what again?”

“A small mint tea.”

“A What?”

“A small mint tea, please”

“Cool. What were the doughnuts again?”

This went on for approximately 10,000 years. Finally, we were given a total and asked to come up to the window. I pay for our drinks. The window opens and we were face to face with the previously unseen entity to whom we begged for mint tea. He handed me my small americano and a bag of doughnuts. Right on, business as usual! I opened the bag to make sure everything looks right. After years of asking for a chocolate glazed doughnut, our exhausted eyes fell upon a boston creme and one regular glazed doughnut. Pain of the highest degree. My brother, though mildly disappointed, did not want to send it back. He’s a chill dude. But even his 80s sitcom character spirit would be broken by what happened next. 

The Dunkin’ man presented us with a beverage that left us with an emotional range including, but not limited to: anger, confusion and grief. Schubert’s Ave Maria broke through both our skulls, now resonating throughout the Toyota Corolla. I am no expert on tea. But I am fairly certain that mint tea is supposed to look somewhat green. The liquid thrust at us was as black as my resolution at that moment. Upon later inspection, Mason would find that it was, in fact, coffee. Again, hoping for the best in everything, my brother handed it back, suggesting that there was supposed to be mint tea in his cup. The titan looked at him and spoke words that will forever send chills down my spine and curse my grandchildren:

“Oh shoot, you wanted mint in this?”

A shock ran through the atmosphere. At that moment, I became 100 years old. Mason died of dehydration. I’m scared, Dunkin’.

I have never felt more futile in my entire life. My brother and I should not have been forced to contemplate mortality and shout into a corporate void on National Doughnut Day. 

Where was the guidance, Dunkin’? Why were you understaffed? Why did you not keep an eye on these things? Why didn’t you help your employee? This is National Doughnut Day! If anyone should be on their A game, it’s you! I do not blame your employee. I blame your sound equipment, incapable of handling the caliber of rush hour you knew you’d be attracting. You knew perfectly well you’d need extra hands on deck. You have hurt everyone involved in the situation.

This won’t be my last visit, of course. When you love something, you don’t give up the second a bump in the road perseveres. I just hope you’ll put the same effort in for me and my family.

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