Dave vs. adidas: The $67 Court Case That Got Me Free Kicks
Back in October 2020, adidas dropped a pair I had to have — the Ultra 4D Triple Black. You know the ones: futuristic 3D-printed sole, stealthy all-black upper, the kind of sneaker that makes you feel like Batman even if you’re just trudging to Woolies for milk.
I was on it. Phone buzzed, app alert came through, I jumped straight on the website and bought them. Order confirmed. Email received. All good. “Delivery may take longer due to peak periods,” the fine print said. No worries — I could wait.
Except weeks went by. No shoes. No shipping update. Just radio silence.
“Don’t worry, mate, we’ll prioritise your parcel”
On November 11, a month later, I hit up adidas customer service on their website chat. I gave them my order number and asked what was going on. They assured me it was fine: “We’ll follow up your parcel and coordinate with our warehouse team to prioritise your order as soon as possible.”
Beautiful. That’s the kind of corporate reassurance you want. Shoes are basically on their way, right?
Except… one week later I get an email: “David, changes to your order.”
The only “change”? They’d cancelled it. No explanation. Just cancelled.
Cancel culture, adidas style
Now, I hadn’t cancelled it. I wanted those shoes. I rang the 1300 number in the email, sat on hold for 17 minutes, and finally spoke to a customer service rep. She told me the order was cancelled because of “insufficient stock.”
Funny thing though — my mate had ordered the exact same pair hours after me and had already received his. So how is there stock for him but not for me? I asked politely. She hung up on me.
That was the moment the whole thing tipped from “mildly annoying” to “corporate villain origin story.”
The Facebook runaround
I hit them up on Facebook Messenger, laid out the whole saga, and asked them to fix it. Their reply was pure PR nonsense: sorry, stock shortage, IT issue, here’s a 40% off voucher for next time.
Next time? Mate, I don’t want to buy another pair of socks. I want the shoes I already bought.
I told them flat-out the only solution was to give me the sneakers I ordered. They wouldn’t budge.
So I gave them a deadline: fix this by November 25 or I take it to VCAT.
They sent back another bland apology. No action.
$67 vs a multinational
So I did it. Filed a claim with VCAT, paid the $67 fee, and officially lodged a consumer action against adidas.
A couple of weeks later, something miraculous happened. An email pinged into my inbox. Not from some customer service script jockey this time. From the Marketing Manager of adidas Australia.
The tone was very different. Very polite. Very keen to resolve things before they had to show up at tribunal and explain why they’d been taking money for shoes they didn’t deliver.
They offered to send me the Ultra 4D Triple Blacks free of charge to close the case.
Deal done.
Sweet, sweet victory
And that’s how a bloke with a grudge, a stubborn streak, and $67 took on adidas — and won.
The shoes arrived, looking every bit as good as I’d imagined the day I ordered them. Every time I wear them now, I get this little grin, because they’re not just sneakers. They’re trophies. A symbol of one very small consumer win against a very big company.
And the best part? adidas’ lawyers probably billed more for the five minutes they spent reading my VCAT claim than the cost of the shoes themselves.
Sometimes, you’ve just gotta fight the good fight.
Read my review of these shoes here.
