Have you ever had one of those days where you clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and anyone who gets in your way is in big trouble? Me too. But sometimes the person you want to give a piece of your mind to is not immediately accessible. That’s where a letter comes into play.
(Kids, if you aren’t clear on what a letter is, go find a parent or grandparent, and ask them to tell you the “Fable of the Handwritten Letter.”)
Sometimes I write letters in my head in lieu of screaming these thoughts at the top of my lungs to no one in particular. And some day, if I could just remember where I put our stamps, I just may mail them.
Here are just a few letters I’ve composed in my head:
Dear Unsubscribe Button Makers:
When I click on you it means I no longer want to receive emails from you. That being said, I’m not sure how sending me ANOTHER email to let me know that I’ve been unsubscribed would result in anything but hostility on my part toward you and your organization. Perhaps changing the button from “unsubscribe” to “obliterate from my inbox” would make it clearer?
Think about it.
Dear Disney Channel:
Consider testing every stupid product you advertise on your station before airing the commercials. You realize that my 10-year-old child is unsophisticated in the way of advertising and believes that she can simply “add water, salt and milk to a cup and shake it to make ice cream.” Oh, and if you need an ice cream maker to test before you re-air the commercial, you can have ours for free BECAUSE IT DOESN’T WORK.
P.S. As a result of the Disney Channel’s advertising hijinks, I’m starting to hate Mickey Mouse, something I never thought possible.
Dear Credit Card Machines Everywhere:
How about if you all sit down and make a universal credit card swiping machine so that all grocery stores/gas stations/retail stores have the same machine. That way we don’t have to re-learn the unique 15-step process at each and every store. My favorite: (1) Swipe your card, (2) enter your four-digit code, (3) Is this total correct? (4) Would you like a receipt? (5) Are you SURE that total is correct.
I’m not sure what steps six through 15 are because I’m too busy banging my head against the store counter at this point.
Dear Grocery Store Cash Register Makers:
When I come in for a gallon of milk, why do I leave with enough receipt to TP someone’s front yard? The milk is $2.50, and yet you’ve used enough paper and ink to discount that price to $2.25. And no, my rage is not subdued by the fact that I now have coupons for Sara Lee strudel, Gala paper towels, Chex Mix and Meow Mix. Seriously, people, I just want my gallon of milk.
Dear Hot Dog Bun Packagers:
Why? You know what I’m going to ask, because it’s been asked for years, and yet you continue to give us eight buns when hotdogs are sold in groups of 10. You are seriously messing with the balance of the outdoor barbecue universe, and you don’t even seem to care. You and your shenanigans leave two perfectly good hotdogs naked EVERY SINGLE TIME.
Honestly, I don’t know how you sleep at night.
Eileen Burmeister is a freelance writer who lives, writes and rants at no one in particular in Winchester, Ore. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org or you can follow her on Twitter at EBurmeister.