A future where companies follow through, systems work the way they claim to work, and ordinary people do not have to chase, document, prove, repeat, and wait just to receive what they were already promised.

I do not know if I will live to see that future.

But this story is one reason I keep thinking about it.

It did not really start three years ago.

But for this story, it did.

In October 2023, I published a positive review of the BlendJet 2. At the time, I owned four of them. I liked them enough to spend my own money on multiple units and recommend them to others. If you would like to read that original review, you can find it here: BlendJet 2 Review: A Handy Companion for On-the-Go Nutrition.

My review was positive because my experience was positive. The BlendJet 2 fit neatly into my life. It was convenient, easy to clean, portable, and useful for making shakes on busy mornings. It was not perfect, but I genuinely felt it was a product worth recommending.

Then, about two months later, the official recall was announced.

On December 28, 2023, millions of BlendJet 2 units were recalled because of safety concerns involving overheating batteries and blades that could break during use. I followed the recall instructions. I destroyed my units as requested. I submitted the required proof. I waited for the replacements.

And I kept waiting.

Today, I do not have the four BlendJets I purchased.

I do not have the replacements either.

That is the simple version of the story.

The more complicated version is that I am not really angry. Maybe I was at one point, but a few years is a long time to hold onto anger over a blender. What I feel now is quieter than that. It is disappointment, but even that word feels a little too clean.

It feels more like recognition.

This week, I found myself writing a rare negative review after a DoorDash order arrived underwhelming and incomplete. Missing salsa. Missing ice cream. Food that sounded better than it tasted. Nothing catastrophic. Nothing worth making into a grand crisis.

Just another small disappointment.

And while I was thinking about that order, I remembered the BlendJets.

Not because a missing scoop of ice cream is the same thing as a failed recall remedy. It is not. But the feeling was familiar. The anticipation. The trust. The little hope that something would simply arrive the way it was supposed to arrive.

Then it did not.

Longtime CherryCoBiz readers may remember another story that carried a similar lesson.

After we moved into our home, Best Buy failed to deliver appliances we had ordered and confirmed well in advance. That experience cost us time, money, spoiled groceries, and a tremendous amount of unnecessary stress. I documented the experience publicly. I submitted complaints. I followed up.

I also know those messages were seen.

I received read receipts.

And yet nothing happened.

The details were different. The stakes were different. But the feeling was strangely familiar.

Not outrage.

Recognition.

Most modern disappointments are not dramatic. They are small enough to dismiss and familiar enough to recognize. A missing item. An unanswered message. A support process that fades into silence. A promise that quietly becomes someone else’s problem.

Each one is minor.

Each one is easy to dismiss.

Yet somehow they accumulate.

And after enough of them, something changes.

We stop expecting better.

I think that is the part that bothers me most. Not the missing blender. Not the missing salsa. Not the missing scoop of ice cream.

The expectation.

Or perhaps the loss of one.

When the recall happened, I expected the process to work. I expected that if a company asked customers to destroy a product and provide proof, the promised remedy would follow. That seemed reasonable.

Today, I find myself shrugging and thinking, “Of course it never arrived.”

That realization bothers me more than the missing blenders.

Because getting used to disappointment is not the same thing as accepting reality.

It is adaptation.

It is learning to lower expectations so the next letdown hurts a little less.

And I am not convinced that is healthy.

The more I think about it, the more I realize this is not only about one company or one product. It is about the distance so many systems create between a promise and the person affected when that promise fails.

A company can promise a remedy.

A platform can process a complaint.

An automated system can generate a response.

But none of that means accountability has arrived.

The same thread keeps appearing in other places too.

I have been working through a separate piece about artificial intelligence and the enormous promises being made about its future. The subjects could not be more different. One involves a recalled blender. The other involves some of the largest technology companies on the planet.

Yet the question underneath them feels strangely similar.

What happens when the promise becomes bigger than the accountability attached to it?

And maybe that is why this story has stayed with me.

CherryCoBiz has never been about outrage. I created this space to share things that feel useful, interesting, nourishing, thoughtful, or worth discussing.

Back in 2023, BlendJet felt useful.

So I said so.

Today, in 2026, the rest of the story feels worth sharing too.

Not because I enjoy writing negative reviews. Anyone who has followed CherryCoBiz for any length of time knows I would much rather celebrate something that works. I like praising good food, helpful products, thoughtful creators, kind service, and people who still seem to care.

But honesty requires room for the disappointment too.

In 2023, I recommended the product.

About two months later, I followed the recall process.

Today, I have neither the blenders nor the replacements.

And what stays with me most is not that I am still waiting.

It is that I am no longer surprised.

I suspect many of us have our own version of this story by now.

Maybe this story did not start with a blender after all.