Dear sir,

I am writing this letter as a former customer of your establishment. I regret to inform you that you will no longer be receiving my patronage or the patronage of anyone with any sense whatsoever who reads this letter, which I am also sending to all local newspapers and several national newspapers.

I am not one to complain regularly, and I’m usually a very tolerant person, but the experience I had with your store was just too much for me to ignore. It was unpleasant and offensive to me, and I’d like to go over all the details of the experience so you may realize the full extent of its egregiousness.

First of all, the colour of your store is gaudy and I don’t approve of it. Did the person(s) who designed the look of the building buy the cheapest colour of paint they could find, or were they just colour blind? It is an eyesore. Also, the smell inside the store is sickening and too strong. The product you use to keep your aisles so clean is bothersome. I have a very sensitive nose, and my wife, before she left me, said once that the smell gave her a headache. And while on the topic of clean floors, I feel that you keep your floors too clean. The glare of the lights reflected back off of it causes discomfort to my eyes.

As for the products you sell, there are simply too many. I do not have the time or patience to sift through all of these items, nor do I agree that I should have to choose from among several varieties of the item I’m looking to purchase. I have enough to think about without having to spend hours deciding between different brands and styles of things. I am a busy man.

The music you play in your store is inexcusable and vulgar. Maybe these loud and lewd songs are all right for a dancing club where people are using cocaine and buying condoms in the dirty bathroom stalls, but this is supposed to be a family-friendly establishment. I can’t even fathom the amount of damage done to a poor innocent child when he or she is browsing through your toy section (which I also have several major issues with) and the latest rock and roll track from Bob Dylan or Mike Jagger and the Rolled Stones starts playing. Why not some soothing whale song instead? Or better yet, no music at all. My wife and I used to listen to music on compact discs and then she left me for another man.

And then there are your employees. Wow, what a sorry lot these people are. Where did you round them up from? Did you lift up the closest rock and hire whatever scurried out? After knocking over and smashing several expensive items, an employee of yours came rushing over to clean it up, as if he had been just waiting for me to break them. As if just because I had broken some items a few days before, and once before that, I was going to do it again. And his name tag said “Chip.” Chip! What kind of name is that? That’s not even a real name! Don’t you have any kind of screening process for the people you hire? As he was cleaning it up, this “Chip” had the audacity to look me right in the eye and smile. He told me that it was “okay” and “no big deal” and “not to worry.” Like I’m some kind of child.

After shoving him a few time and demanding to talk to his manager, I was directed to a man I was told was the assistant store manager, who had a moustache. A moustache! Do you realize what kind of men have moustaches? Degenerate men, that’s what kind. Sleazy pervert men. The kind of men that other men’s wives run off with.

This is when things got truly unacceptable. After some more shoving and yelling, “Chip” and this brute, whose name I never got because I was too blinded by his deplorable moustache, began trying to bribe me. They said they were sorry and that they were “sure we could work this all out” and offered me a free gift card if I’d just stop “making a scene.” That we could talk about this rationally, like “calm, reasonable adults.” They didn’t seem to be very reasonable to me. Acting like they could just pay me off with a gift card. Like I’m some kind of whore. A whore like my wife who ran off with one of the employees of this store.

The whole ordeal ended after an entire shelf got knocked over and fell on a little girl. Ambulances and police were called and I figured it would be best to get out of there. There was no use in trying to deal with these people. It would be much more productive to skip town and contact the source of all this. And that’s why I’m writing this letter to you.

As you can see, I have had nothing but bad experiences with this location in your chain of stores. I will never buy anything from your company again, nor had I ever before. I expect a formal, written apology from you and from everyone else involved. No, I demand it. And I also demand that you tell me which of your employees is the one who stole my wife. Was it Chip? Was it that moustached goon? Was it you, you son of a bitch?! I fucking know it was one of you!


Photo by KennyThong Candid via Flickr