You promised 15 GB for free. But you failed to mention that those 15 GB include my Gmail spam folder from 2009 AND every blurry photo my Pixel phone took of the floor. I delete 5,000 emails, and you tell me I’ve freed up 3 MB. Three. I hate you.

But I’m not happy about it.

So, I’ll keep spinning the wheel. I’ll keep searching for "Untitled." And I’ll keep hitting "Request Access."

Is this editor, viewer, commenter, or controller-of-the-universe? I accidentally gave my intern "Manager" status, and now they can delete the entire company archive. Changing permissions requires clicking through five menus, a captcha, and a blood sacrifice.

I have "Stream files" enabled. Yet, somehow, you have decided to occupy 47 GB of my actual hard drive. How? How are you using more space locally than exists in the cloud? Are you cloning my files to build an army?

I spend hours perfecting a resume in Google Docs. I export to PDF to send to a recruiter. I open the PDF. The margins are wrong, a random bullet point is floating in the void, and my name is hyphenated across two lines. You made me look unprofessional in front of a robot, Google.

I know the file name is "Q3_Financials_FINAL_v2.pdf." I know I opened it yesterday. I type "Q3" into the search bar. You show me a recipe for quinoa salad from 2012, a scanned receipt for gas, and a random Google Doc titled "Untitled." You are not helpful; you are a passive-aggressive librarian.