07
Using an alternate account, I posted a detailed Online Review Post on Instagram. I laid out the facts with proof: payment receipts, video footage, and a full breakdown of the incident. To maximize visibility, I geotagged the post to the same town and even pinned the location of Maynard’s Deli.
6:24 PM
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The post exploded. Within hours, it had tens of thousands of views, and the comments section was on fire.
“That place? Right under my building. I’ve been there once. Rude staff–never went back.”
“What kind of owner acts like this? They should just shut down already.”
“OMG, is this me?? I’m the security guard they spit on! Where’s my emotional damages check, influencer?”
“Thanks for the heads–up! @MiaSleeps TooMuch @CilantroHater @UrbanEats… avoid this place!”
“I’m going to grab a couple of their bags just to see what the fuss is about.”
That last comment sparked a flood of responses.
“Post updates!”
“We’re waiting!”
“It’s been hours. Did you even go?”
A day later, the original commenter returned with a story.
“Confirmed. The post is 100% true. I ordered $30 worth of food, but they tried to charge me for $50. Had to argue to get them to take the extras out. Then I grabbed two bags on my way out, and the old lady chased me for two blocks. Thank goodness I can run fast.”
The fallout was immediate. Maynard’s Deli began losing customers by the day. Each time I passed by, the pile of unsold food grew bigger. Their loyal patrons started disappearing, too–though the Maynards, being out of the social media loop, seemed oblivious to the reason.
That’s when I decided to nudge things further. I messaged my friend Logan Reid, a food blogger with over 100,000 followers, recommending Maynard’s Deli as an unmissable “hidden gem.”
After hitting send, I smirked. “This should be good.”
