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A monologue from the play by Bess Wohl
G*ddamn it, these people. These g*ddamn people. The guy won’t even advance me some ham. He was the last of the pre-approved distributors. Did you know that we are only allowed to use their pre-approved distributors?
But do you know what else? They’re more expensive. They charge you, the franchisee—forty cents extra per pound. And it all goes to a kickback to corporate. No wonder Bob bolted.
The poor guy had no chance. ‘Cause they sold him the franchise, it cost, hello—Over four hundred and fifty thousand dollars! But what he didn’t know— what you can’t know,
unless you read the fine print—is that they can put your store wherever they want—any crappy, impossible, dead-end location, they can wait up to two years to open it.
They set all the prices, they control the supply chain. It’s all on their terms! They basically have you by the balls. They sell you the store; you give them your balls. How is that fair?
What the hell kind of world do we live in? Where people just . . . People just . . . Take people’s . . . Forget it. I give up. I give up.