Chapter Text
The Germa 66 had never managed to flourish well enough during previous administrations to be considered a major company in the market, but when Judge Vinsmoke managed to take it from his grandfather's hands, this changed. Under his ambitious and firm leadership, he abandoned the traditional ways of his family and succeeded, by heavily investing in innovatives technology, in building a multinational empire. It took years of investment and risky decisions - plus suspicious connections - but now the Germa 66 logo was easily recognisable by any consumer who saw it on the products. It’s name became famous and the company earned a good reputation.
Judge was very proud of his own achievement and aiming to maintain that empire, even when came the time he would have to step down, he trained - from a very young age - all five of his children to be equally fierce and ambitious in achieving what they wanted. Unfortunately, his fourth son, Sanji, never showed the same commitment as his siblings in the art of fierceness. He was the most similar to his mother in both blond hair and friendly behavior, to Judge's displeasure.
Without knowing it, Sanji was considered a complete failure by his own father. At first he didn't realize that his father's discontentment, though visible, was so deep, but when he was transferred to one of the smallest - and insignificant - departments as soon as his mother, Sora Vinsmoke, died of cancer, Sanji realized that the only reason Judge tolerated him anywhere near him was because of her sweet influence.
Oddly enough, this insight made Sanji more determined in doing his best in the new department to prove to his father that he did not need to act in an authoritarian or strictly punitive way to achieve good results. He became the manager of the Kitchen Appliances Department, and under his guidance a prosperous era with his subordinates offering good ideas began. Sanji even decided to go a little beyond his job - after discovering a certain passion for cooking - and was responsible for creating some of the appliance projects submitted the previous year.
His greatest pride's item, that has been leading the department's sales for no less than six months, was an incredible blender that even earned him an email from the company's president - aka Judge - with a very apathetic 'congratulations'. Sanji almost could feel the bitter taste of the unwillingness contained in that short message, but the satisfaction was immense. But surely his mother was proud of him, no matter in what kind of heaven she was.
Early that morning, Sanji read in his horoscope: An unforeseen event will put your peace of mind in check, but deal with it using patience and the problems will be minimal. Impulsivity should be channelled into beneficial actions. Lack of inspiration? Invest in new airs to unwind. Fortune color: Uncertain Gray.
Sanji had particularly failed to understand why that site had decided to use nail polish color names for lucky colors. And where, by any chance, could he find any 'uncertain gray' colored items? Anyway, he wasn't a addict to things like horoscopes, but he found it slightly amusing to compare his everyday life to the weekly horoscope. Perhaps, deep inside, he would even believe it a little - after all, the frequency he consulted them was increasing more and more - but he would never admit it out loud. And although he refused to blindly believe in these random things, he spent the day slightly worried about the ‘peace of mind in check’ part.
What would it mean?
Leaning in a little to see better the design displayed on the monitor, Sanji pointed to the fruit squeezer handle depicted there. It was the model that would be added as a complement to the HealthLife premier product line or perhaps it would be placed along with the other prizes for the company's upcoming birthday draw.
“This shape doesn't match the size of the product. And remember, it has to harmonize with the juice jar.” Sanji commented, but when he turned he soon noticed distress on his subordinate's face. “You're doing a great job.” He added quickly, giving him congratulatory pats on his back.
There was a noticeable decrease in the level of distress on the face of the young man who had recently joined the department and was still trying to adapt to the new working environment. Since he hadn't had enough interaction time to know that there were no cases of dismissals due to any triviality (which seemed to have been the case in his previous work) the young man in question was apprehensive about any comment coming from the Vinsmoke.
Sanji checked his wristwatch and went to his own desk to let the poor newbie work in peace for the last minutes of working time. During the short walk, one female subordinate asked for his advice on the details of a collection of cake baking pans, which he gave very willingly and well mannered as his good mother had taught him. “ Always treat women like goddesses, my sweet boy. You shouldn't hit them even with butterfly wings .” She once said when Sanji got into a fight with a girl from his class. Or at least he was fairly sure those were her words.
By the time he finally managed to sit in his chair, office hours had come to a end and his employees began to tidy their own desks to go home. He didn't rush though, since he was always the last one to leave. He watched his subordinates serenely leave, mentally grateful for the false alarm that the morning horoscope gave him. There was no check, after all.
Turning his attention back to the computer, he unlocked the lock screen and started the ritual he had been doing since his last project was launched in the market. He opened the website of the company's largest partner and checked each of its items, analyzing the evaluations and comments left by customers who purchased the products. He always checked them in a ascending order, leaving his most famous product for last: the Arnory Mimorin Techclic 66 blender.
He proudly appreciated the four images in the ad, admiring his own work. It was considered one, if not The Best, of the best blenders on the market and right below the page there was a cascade of comments and positive evaluations to prove the quality of the product. An involuntary smile took over his lips as he fetched a cigarette in his pants pockets out of pure habit. He didn't find any, since he was trying to quit smoking, and resigned himself to grabbing a mint candy from a bowl on the table.
His Arnory Mimorin Techclic 66 had a jar that was not saturated by odors and didn't stained over time, was resistant to thermal shock, had a six-blade cutting technology (while its competitors had only four simple blades), It allowed the jar blades to be detached in order to facilitate cleaning and also had a flexible silicone lid with a larger opening that allowed the addition of ingredients during it’s use. Besides all these qualities the blender model still had a charming design that matched any kitchen and was available in a variety of fifteen colours.
However, as he was about to put the candy in his mouth, he rolled the mouse's scroll wheel with his other hand and found, to his utter horror, that there was a recently negative evaluation. The candy rolled to the floor, but he couldn't care less. All his attention was now on that number 1 displayed in the negative evaluations in a terrible red tone.
How did that happen? No, it couldn't be real. He closed the page and then opened it again, not really being able to just leave it. He stared at the number for a few good minutes thinking about his next course of action. But what the hell could he do in a situation like that anyway? Nothing, that was the answer. Because of this, it took another good few minutes for him to finally have the courage to click on the red number and be able to see what the complainant had left written. As soon as the message was displayed, his eyes nervously ran through the few words contained there.
“This crap is useless.”
He blinked, incredulous. Seriously, that was the message? The person hadn't even explained why they didn't like the product! Oh, he couldn't just let it go! He wouldn't be (indirectly) offended like that and stay quiet. Even if he wanted, he couldn't. Suddenly decided to discover the identity of the user who posted the complaint, Sanji unlocked the phone. He even knew to who he had talk to get that information.
It was in times like that he enjoyed certain benefits that the surname Vinsmoke provided him.
Zoro Roronoa was a simple man. So simple, in fact, that he couldn't really handle too much technological stuff. Some would even call him a caveman, but that didn’t matter right now. What did matter is that he had been able to survive in this modern age in which things displayed more and more functions every day, because he lived together with his sister, Tashigi Roronoa, and it was her who dealt with such objects. However, after Tashigi married a guy named Smoker, she decided to move out to a nearby town and start her married life there. Zoro then had to learn how to deal with the devices of modern life on his own.
At first he didn't think it would be very difficult, but after breaking the fourth electric pan and throwing some good spatulas and plastic spoons in the garbage for melting while trying to prepare some food, he decided that the kitchen definitely hated him. To survive he began to eat, during lunch, the ready-made lunch boxes from the convenience stores near his work and for dinner he would buy a portion of the first food stall that he found on his way.
For a while he managed to deceive himself that he was not in a bad situation, but after a month of eating that way he couldn't even bear to see the color of the yakisoba sold on the corner of his street or have to chew the contents of the lunchbox that was mysteriously tasteless despite being colorful. In the end, a friend who was aware of his situation decided to give him tips on how to live alone and recommended some indispensable culinary products for those who wanted to start preparing their own food. And trusting in the reports of Johnny's own use, Zoro bought a blender that promised to be revolutionary and had blades as sharp as a shuriken.
The product was delivered on time and was well packed in bubble wrap. Zoro took it out of the box, accommodating the blender in a free corner of the counter next to the kitchen sink. He had to admit that the piece was quite pretty - although he didn't understand much about it - and it came with a relatively thick manual describing all the functions and culinary possibilities that the blender provided. And of course he threw the heavy manual in the kitchen trash bin. Who needed to read so many pages to learn how to use a simple little thing like that? Following his instincts were good enough, and trusting this, he turned back to stick some food inside the blender jar.
It took him a few minutes to properly attach the jar on the base and also to close the lid, as apparently, it was packed full with the amount of food he put in. When he finally turned on the machine and it’s hum echoed through the air, Zoro felt proud of his autodidact performance. He sneered at the manual in the garbage and went to the toilet to take a piss while the blender worked furiously.
However, contrary to his expectations, as he left the toilet, shaking his hands to remove the excess water, he smelled a curious scent in the air that was nothing like the scent of the food he was preparing. He frowned and quickly headed towards the kitchen, which seemed to be the source of the smell. And it was with great astonishment that he saw the blender on fire, there, on the countertop, next to the sink and almost touching the cupboard above it.
“Hm... “ He wisely said.
His plans for a homemade dinner were more than ruined considering that the blender committed suicide on its first day of use. He scratched the back of his head, completely disappointed. What kind of crap had Johnny recommended? Or was it really the kitchen that hate him?
Anyway, he put out the fire with the extinguisher - he had learned how to use it after burning a couple frying pans with their contents beyond toasted - and after heating a seafood-flavoured Cup Noodles, he sat down in front of his laptop ready to complain about the product. The laptop was a very old model, the kind that stopped receiving updates for it's Operating System for over a year and maybe because of that it was too slow to perform any small activity.
In the end, the laptop crashed and Zoro had to ask his friend Robin for help to send the comment. Or the damned comment, if you prefer.
Never again he would buy something from the internet.