Chapter One: Customer Service Warfare – Caring Counts® (Just Not for You)

I used to think customer service was about help. A quick conversation. Maybe a refund. I didn’t realize it was war.

It started with a self-balancing scooter I bought to regain mobility—something light and easy, to give my dog daily walks again despite my disability. I have plantar fasciitis. Some days, walking a block feels like crawling across glass. That Segway? That was my independence. My legs.

And then I bought a replacement battery. From Amazon.

A simple thing, really. Until it exploded.
Literal fire.
Smoke. Flames. Burned my rug. Scorched my hands. Inches from becoming an inferno. The only reason it didn’t? I grabbed the battery bare-handed and ran. My hands blistered. My heart pounded. But my pets survived. My home stood. My legs didn’t.

“I lost my mobility, my safety, and whatever illusion I had that the system works.”

I lost my mobility, my safety, and whatever illusion I had that the system works.
I sent Amazon the evidence.
Photos. Receipts. Documentation.
And they passed the buck—to Sedgwick, a “claims administrator” with a 1.3-star Google rating and an F at the BBB.
Sedgwick's assessor, for nearly four months, kept asking me to resend files they'd already confirmed receiving.

Every time I sent them again, they asked again.
Every time I followed up, they ghosted me.
Every time I raised my voice, they punished me.
And finally?
They shut my file.

No apology. No inspection. No accountability.

This wasn’t customer service. This was psychological warfare.

Delay. Deny. Deflect. Disappear.

“That’s not a glitch in the system.
That is the system.”

That’s not a glitch in the system.That is the system.

As a disabled person, I was easy to isolate. Easy to frustrate. Easier to exhaust than reimburse.

I was supposed to break. Instead, I took notes.

Amazon’s executive “support” team ('Diego R', 'Eloy M'), when asked for help, responded with scripted emails that showed zero concern for the trauma or fire hazard. They never acknowledged the emotional fallout or danger. Sedgwick’s agent played document limbo. Then, when I lost my patience — they closed the claim and told Amazon I was being “disrespectful.”

Because that’s how the game works:

📍 Tone-police the victim.
📍 Push them until they snap.
📍 Then blame the tone, not the trigger.

And here's the truth:
My taxes fund regulators who shrug.
My purchases fuel billion-dollar logistics giants that vanish once you need them.
And those friendly agents with the “Caring Counts®” tagline?
They’re not on your side.
They are the frontline defense against accountability.

This is how a system crushes people:
Not by denying them outright,
but by outlasting them.

One delay.
One call.
One copy-paste reply at a time.

I didn’t ask for millions.

I asked to walk again.
To have safe, reliable mobility.
To be heard. To be respected.
To not be treated like a liar for daring to survive.

“I was not allowed to be upset about the gaslighting and abuse. I was told to be nice, but I think they meant to be silent and to go away. And when I refused, they shut the door and threw away the key.”

I was not allowed to be upset about the gaslighting and abuse. I was told to be nice, but I think they meant to be silent and to go away.
And when I refused, they shut the door and threw away the key.

So no. I won’t let this be buried.

This isn’t just an origin story.
It’s a warning shot.
And I’ve got plenty more matches.

➡️ Next: Chapter Two – “Caring Counts®” — Until You Need It
How silence, spin, and endless holds grind you down — until your dignity’s gone and your case is closed.