I think I need to start complaining more. I’m more of a go-with-the-flow, accept-whatever-comes type of person, but I’m starting to realize that perpetual whiners know something I don’t: The more you complain, the more you are rewarded.

Complaining holds power. If enough people join together and complain at the same time about the same thing, rallies and riots manifest. America is an entire country that runs on complaining. Writing a civil letter to your congresspeople about your qualms won’t get you anywhere, but staging a large, colorful protest in D.C. just might.

I learned this lesson the hard way. 

After a semester abroad in India, two eight-hour flights and nine hours’ worth of layovers, I was ready to catch the last plane home when the flight was canceled and I was forced to spend the night at O’Hare International Airport in Chicago. I was upset, but what could I do? So I bought a granola bar for dinner, found a place to sleep and called it a night. 

As it turns out, there was a lot I could’ve done. The guy five rows in front of me called the airline and made such a fuss that the company gave him a $1,000 voucher. My dad, who was traveling at the same time I was, tweeted about his own set of delays at the airline and received a $75 gift card. 

And what did I get for accepting the situation with an attempted smile? Nothing, not even a bag of stale airplane peanuts.

As a former food-service employee, I can vouch for the merits of complaining. I was taught that the customer is always right, so even though you definitely did not specify dressing on the side, I will throw out the salad I gave you and get you a new one, free of charge. Whatever you complain about, I am obligated to try to fix. 

At one restaurant I worked for, patrons would Photoshop fake coupons, print them out and try to redeem them, and we were forced to honor them. God forbid they complained on the customer survey, forcing us to receive a bad quarterly report. 

Thanks to the Internet, complaining has never been easier. Nowadays, you can complain on the go from your iPad, phone or Kindle. That guy on the 71B who is smacking his gum a little too loudly right in front of you? Quick, tweet about it and hope for some sympathetic replies. Is the line too long at Rita’s? Take an upset-looking selfie while you wait, tag Rita’s in it and see if you get free custard. 

Companies and restaurants are so paranoid about saving face that the more publicly you complain, the more you stand to reap. Companies work hard to maintain their online image — Taco Bell is known for its witty tweets and responses to customers — and will go out of the way to retain its public appeal. So go big or go home; if you are going to make a stink about something, don’t just write a letter. Smear it all over social media and see what kind of rewards you get. 

If you don’t want any reward for your incessant whining, though, the Internet allows you to complain anonymously, meaning you can be as vulgar and inaccurate as you want with little to no repercussions. People bash online videos and articles and ask prying questions all because they can do it anonymously. It is much easier to be a jerk when you know that your mother will never find out what you said. 

Gone are the days of tolerance and flexibility, the days of sucking it up and dealing with it. Companies don’t honor these traits, so we whine and grumble until we are compensated for our inconvenience, however slight it may be. I used to think that taking the high road and not whining about every small detail was the mature thing to do, but I am starting to rethink my decision. Look at all the free stuff I’m missing out on, such as entire meals and airline vouchers.

So the next time I get a medium fry instead of the small fry that I ordered, watch out and turn off your Wi-Fi because I’ll be tweeting all day about my messed-up order.

Write Channing at [email protected].