I can’t with good conscience pit the poor saps who have sold their souls to such an evil company, nor can I blame the 3 year old in the nicaraguan sweat show who refurbishes automotive electrical parts for them.
No, I must pit the parent corporation.
For you, Advance Auto Parts, sell hope. The hope of a budget minded consumer, who, with enough mechanical aptitude, can fix his own car. The customer takes home that very heavy box and opens it, revealing the pure mechanical joy of a shiny new starter or alternator. That poor consumer, steadfast in his belief that his shiny new starter will continue to start next week, that his alternator will continue to… alternate, months down the road.
That consumer was me, and I have been cheated.
I should have taken the two dead-out-of-box alternators you handed me as a possible sign of things to come, but me, naive me, had faith. Faith that you were a good corporation, a benevolent corporation. I had faith that your executives sat inside of an ivory tower, preaching ideals of quality and cost.
I, the budget minded (ok, fine. fucking cheap) owner of a classic (also see, old as shit) car, have had my hobby taken from me. A year after making the initial purchases from you that put my car back on the road, I turn my key with dread.
Will the new starter fail? Wait… it already did.
Will the new alternator fail? Oh… hmm… it already did too…
Battery? oh.
Thanks to you, Advance Auto Parts, I live a life of fear. Fear that when I start my car, I will be greeted only by the wirring of a starter, or worse, the hollow click of a solenoid.
So fuck you, Advance Auto Parts. Fuck you with a potato up your tailpipe.