Suburban Snapshots

To Whom It May Concern

Thursday, September 30, 2010

I'm a letter writer. I write letters of complaint to companies when I feel their product has disappointed or somehow wronged me.

A few weeks ago I opened up a brand new container of ice cream that promised swirls of caramel, chocolate shavings and teensy peanut butter cups. From previous experience I knew this to be accurate, and would try to achieve the full combination in each of the two bites I could have before blowing my caloric intake for the day. Anyway, I opened this brand new container and GASP, HORROR, not a speck of chocolate. Nary a shard. No peanut butter cups, nothing but a lonely caramel brook swirling its way into the depths of unembellished vanilla ice cream. I excavated, I created tunnels that would impress Chilean mine engineers, still nothing. So I wrote a letter:

Dear Ice Creamery,
My chunky chocolate caramel swirl was neither chunky nor chocolatey. Please send reinforcements. Sincerely, Digger

I got an email reply the same day and not one, but TWO coupons to replace the ice cream that my husband was more than happy to enjoy despite its shortcomings. Now that is some good goddamn customer service.

So. I had these two pairs of underwear. They came in a four pack, yet these two delinquent garments started falling apart the minute I wore them. And wore them. And wore them. I don't know what took me so long but finally I'd had it with strings hanging out the tops of my jeans, my ring getting caught in shredded elastic, and knowing that if I were to get in an accident, these were NOT the underwear my Nana would want me in. And again, I wrote a letter:

Dear Intimate Clothier,
I've purchased 4 pairs of your bikini underwear. While they are very comfortable, they have begun to shred. They were not cheap. I'd appreciate reparations. Sincerely, Drafty

Again a reply, then an escalation.

When the regional manager contacted me, she asked me to return the defective articles for a replacement. In respectable language I let her know that these garments were in fact highly used, and had been up in my business to a degree that my husband only dreams of. She assured me that this was Official Policy, and in doing so also made the assumption that I wasn't the kind of person to grab two pairs of underwear off the bathroom floor and go traipsing into fine her retail establishment waving them around being all, "Hey so, where do you want these here USED PANTIES?" I also wondered whether this wasn't just a tactic designed to get me to forget the whole deal.

Today I walked into that shop with two laundered pairs of pink bikini underpants folded neatly and placed inside a Ziplock bag. The clerk informed me that I'd bought these items back in February, and still continued to replace them with not two, but four brandy-new pairs.

This time I got polka dots and decided against asking where the damaged ones were headed.

blog comments powered by Disqus