There’s a unique frustration that comes with financial mishaps—especially when they’re out of your control. They might seem minor on the surface, but their emotional weight can derail your entire day, leaving you feeling powerless and exhausted. This past week, I had two such experiences. Neither was catastrophic, but the sheer helplessness they caused lingered far longer than the incidents themselves.

The first incident was a fraudulent purchase at B&Q through my PayPal account. The thief not only drained my balance but also bypassed my usual backup payment method—a credit card—and instead pulled funds directly from my bank account. I immediately reported the transaction, only for PayPal to deny my claim within a minute. A minute! There’s no way it was properly reviewed. Frustrated, I contacted B&Q directly, filed an appeal with PayPal, and, admittedly, blasted them on Twitter. I’m not proud of the last part, but I was desperate for action.

When I escalated the claim, I finally got a human response apologizing and assuring me that PayPal covers all confirmed unauthorized transactions. Great. But by that point, I was already reminded of a similar nightmare from two years ago when someone hacked my account to buy hundreds of dollars worth of cat supplies. I’d forgotten the hard-learned lesson: go directly to the merchant first. Now, I’m stuck waiting 8–10 business days for PayPal to resolve the issue, simmering over how easy it is to get hacked and how hard it is to prove you’re the victim.

If that wasn’t enough, the same day, my partner and I ordered takeaway from our favorite Indian restaurant via Deliveroo. After a cozy afternoon at the movies, we decided to indulge in our favorite takeaway at home. When the order arrived, it wasn’t just slightly off—it was from an entirely different restaurant. Confused, we checked the bag. The receipt and food didn’t match anything we’d ordered, though half of it vaguely resembled what we’d asked for.

We ran outside, hoping to flag down the delivery driver, but he was gone. So, I turned to the Deliveroo app to report the mistake. That’s when things got truly maddening. Deliveroo claimed we weren’t eligible for a refund. Excuse me? We had photos of the food, the receipt, and everything needed to prove the error. I waited on their live chat for 20 minutes, only for the representative to also deny the claim.

By this point, I was fuming. We were sitting at home, hungry, with undeniable evidence of Deliveroo’s mistake, and yet I was being told there was nothing they could do. I demanded the claim be escalated. Forty minutes later, after much back-and-forth, I finally spoke to a manager, who immediately approved the refund. While the resolution was satisfying, the time and emotional energy it took to get there were infuriating.

I deleted the Deliveroo app from my phone right then and there. I made my partner deleted his, too. There are plenty of other food delivery options out there, and I won’t be giving them another penny.

The Frustration of Feeling Helpless

In both cases—the PayPal fraud and the Deliveroo fiasco—the money was part of the issue, but the real sting was the helplessness. The systems in place, from automated denials to inefficient customer service, made me feel like I was fighting an uphill battle for things that should have been straightforward.

It’s not just about losing money or time; it’s about the emotional toll of being ignored or dismissed. These experiences chip away at your sense of control and autonomy, leaving you stewing in frustration over something that wasn’t even your fault. It also leaves me a bit panicked, what if a bigger problem happens and no one believes me?

Finding Perspective

I wish I could say these incidents didn’t get to me, but they did. A lot. What helped was taking a step back and reminding myself that while these moments felt overwhelming, they were temporary. I’ve also learned to advocate for myself—even if it means escalating claims, calling out companies on social media, or switching to competitors. Especially switching to competitors, I can completely accept my money isn’t even a drop in the bucket for these massive corporations, but it is something I can definitely do.

I can also share with my friends out here on the internet what garbage service they have and remind you that Uber Eats and and Just Eats exist and are better options than Deliveroo.

These situations are a stark reminder of how exhausting it is to deal with broken systems. They also highlight the importance of valuing our time and energy. I’m choosing to focus on better alternatives moving forward, whether it’s different apps, more secure payment methods, or just stepping away from the frustration for a breather.

Here’s hoping for smoother days ahead—and maybe some decent Indian takeaway, delivered on time, as ordered, from the correct restaurant.