It was month-end. Actually, it could’ve been the middle of the month. More likely, it was the 26^th of the month, and the bank balance was already receding faster than Musk’s hairline pre-1995. But, of course, the children need things like rugby boots and food. So off we head to the nearest discount shop, scouring the racks for half-price goods that will undoubtedly only last until the next payday – but that’s future self’s problem.

After digging down the sides of the car for loose change, stealing from the kids’ pocket money, and maxing out the credit card yet again, there’s just enough money to buy the last pair of shoes that fit the oldest one’s ever-growing feet. As I shovel the coins across to the teller, he looks at me, sympathetically, and whispers: “Would you like to make a donation to our charitable foundation?”.

Me. The penniless writer wearing R5 clothes from the Hospice shop and sipping what is clearly box wine from a juice bottle? The person who just paid for a pair of shoes with coins and loose cigarettes? The unhinged individual who’s only skill has already been surpassed by a computer programme made by bored Chinese teenagers? I AM the god-damn charity!

But these corporations just keep doing it. These multi-billion-rand organisations keep raking in the profits, yet have the audacity to shine a spotlight on us, in front of a queue of judgy Karens, and make us feel like the ungiving cretins who should be saving the planet with our R2 donation.

This particular company made R1.83 billion in 2024. BILLION. If they donated just 1% of their profits to ending world hunger, that would be… like a LOT of money. I promise you, my R2 coin – which they can try to wrestle from my cold, wine-soaked fingers – is going to do zip. You can’t even buy a samoosa for that.

Look, it’s not the teller’s fault. The company’s CEO made R45 million in one year – typically 290 times more than the average worker. And this one looked pretty below average if I have to be honest. This poor git is forced, by the corporate idiots, to ask their paying customers for MORE money to donate to their charitable foundation. But I still let him have it.

Beyond stealing from the poor to give to the poorer at no expense to the rich, why should my money contribute to a corporation’s charitable donation? If I want to give to a charity, I will go and give to a charity, basking in the glow of all that entails – even if it is only R2. I’ll drop that coin in the tin with a smug look on my face, knowing that I’ve contributed, in some VERY small way, to buying an impoverished person’s daily samoosa.

If I choose to give MORE to charity (after defeating ChatGPT in a War of the Words and becoming the wealthy robot Overlord) then I should benefit from the tax exemptions that come with such donations – as, no doubt, this greedy corporation is doing.

But it doesn’t stop there. It never does.

Walk into one of these modern, American-style coffee shops that are erupting all over the place, and order a takeaway coffee. You don’t just pay for the coffee – which is already the price of a starter home in lower Ukraine – you’re also put on the spot and asked to give the barista a tip. For what? Their job which took all of 30 seconds? Here’s a tip for you, sign up as a beneficiary of a charitable foundation rather.

And, once again, it’s not the barista’s fault. The corporate turds they work for don’t pay them a living wage, instead they expect customers to fork out more than they charge to cover their employee’s salaries. If I’m not going to tip you at a bar for a glass of wine, you’re stone dead if you think I’m going to tip you for some watered-down coffee.

If we want to stop world hunger, halt the climate crisis, and buy shoes that last longer than a calendar month, it’s the corporates that have to fork out.

It’s time we all stop being gaslit by big business.

And also, nobody wants coffee shops. Bring back the bars.