Dear Customer Relations – The World's Best Funny Complaint Letters Send in your funny complaints!!

1. 

   Anthony
   December 19th, 2011 - 14:12

   Simon,

   Many thanks for these. Excellent letters! Are you happy for me to post them?
   Did you get any replies? If so, would be great to have scans. I can blank out addresses or any details you don’t want shared.
   As for the Littlewood’s advert, can you find a link to it on YouTube or similar? Would be good to have the reason for the complaint (even a still from the ad?)
   Thanks,

   Anthony
2. 

   Simon Cullen
   December 16th, 2011 - 20:00

   Here are three complaints letters I’ve written in the past year. Warning, they are quite long. The first was to Itunes about they’re appalling customer service in response to my itunes account hacked and money stolen, the second is to West Mercia police in relation to them offering me a speeding awareness course, and the third is to Littlewoods about their 2012 xmas ad campaign.

   Letter to Itunes customer support
   This is an email I sent to Itunes today to complain about the fact that they’ve suspended my account, and then ignored me for two months because someone hacked my Itunes account and stole £190:-

   “To: Itunesstoresupport@apple.com
   From: bodybag66@hotmail.com
   09 March 2011

   This is a short summation of what this email is about so that the lovely people at Itunes can’t say I rambled on a bit and they didn’t read it:-

   I, a “customer” of yours, have had my online account with you, where you hold ALL of my relevant financial details, hacked into, by a penis jockey of unknown origin, who bought his self 19 gift certificates, using my password as a name on January 19th 2011. I, have contacted what you call customer services (with no little irony) via email (because you have no PHONE NUMBER) and have received one reply, in which I was assured by “Katherine” on February 12th 2010, that I was “important” and would be dealt with asap. That was one month ago. Despite REPEATEDLY emailing “Katherine” I have been avoided more readily than a leporous sex offender. I decided the only way forward was to re-start my grievance and bypass the wonderful Katie in the hope that I could get someone who could actually reach the keyboard and type a reply.
   That was three days ago.
   Please respond to me.
   My name is Simon Cullen, my account name is **************

   Please, I don’t hate you, not yet anyway. I’m moving rapidly in that direction though. I’ve had £190 stolen because I used your music program. Which, by the way, ISN’T EVEN ANY GOOD. It’s bloody awful in fact. I don’t want YOU to organise my music files. I want to do it. Why is your cockamany program trying to do it for me?? Why the crapping Christ do I want 3 copies of each song on each album lined up?

   So, for instance, if I listen to AC/DC’s fine Powerage lp, I get Rock and Roll Damnation THREE times. Now, don’t get me wrong, it’s a great song, but when you listen to anything three times in a row, it starts to feel a LITTLE bit like you’re going mental.

   Now, I know, Kate, that you’re probably sitting there, at your office desk, tutting and shaking you’re wisoned head, saying to yourself “huh, you idiot, there’s an OPTION to turn that off. You just press apple/alt/ctrl/shift and four.”
   But, I’m not an idiot, no, I’m just lazy, and I don’t WANT to press any buttons, or fanny about with any drop down menu boxes. I just want to listen to “Cannibal Corpse”. Once, NOT three times. If you listen to Cannibal Corpse three times, Kat, the Zombie Apocalypse definitely begins.

   So I have to go through all my songs, and delete two in every three songs. Then find, that I deleted the working copy and NOT the one I want to listen to, so I have to purchase the LP again from Itunes….oh no, sorry, I can’t, because you SUSPENDED MY FORNICATING ACCOUNT IN FEBRUARY.

   I had money stolen from it. So I was rightly punished, banished from my own account and ignored. Ignored by YOU Katie. And now you won’t even talk to me.

   I’m sick of you. I get better treatment than that from my wife. And you’re not my wife Katherine. You might think you are, with your cold, surly distance, but you’re not.

   Stop stealing my money, and then ignoring me. You’re not all that you know. You’re software is an abortion of a program.
   Do you think I WANT to use that hideous clunky piece of crap? No, I HAVE to, because I bought an Iphone.

   I STILL don’t know how to plug it in and charge it up, without it deleting all my aps and Podcasts.

   “There’s an option…..” no Katherine, NO option. Just don’t DO it unless I ask you o.k.?

   Just CHARGEUP. I didn’t ASK you to delete 4 pages of things that make my commute 10% less goddamn miserable. You JUST DID IT.
   And now I can’t buy them again because you’ve suspended my account.

   So, here’s the deal Katie-pie, I’ve had enough of your petulant ignorance, we’re over. We’re through o.k.?
   Once I am emancipated, I’m taking my things, and moving out. The new playstation phone is out in March, and it’s been seductively swelling its beautiful, rounded bosom in my direction recently.
   I won’t lie, I want to hold it and touch it, and caress its shiny ass.
   I’m sure it won’t require me to have a phd in cock-knockery just to put the things I want onto it, and I’m sure it won’t steal my money and then ignore me like a ginger headed step-child.

   I thank you for the good times, it’s been fun, but it’s also been a colossal pain in the crutch and your broken promises of “customer service” have been too much to take.

   Your’s faithfully or whatever
   Simon Cullen”

   West Mercia Police

   West Mercia Police
   PO Box 25
   Droitwich Worcs
   WR9 8UF

   Dear Mrs Hartland,

   I have recently received a fixed penalty notice through my door for speeding on junction 5-6 of the M5 on the 13th September 2011.

   Let me just start by saying that I fully accept the possibility that I, and the large queue of traffic that I was following southbound, were doing 59mph as we travelled through the road works. This was at 15:05 so traffic was just starting to build up, I can only imagine several 10’s of thousands of people have received these fixed penalties. So firstly, yes, I may have been travelling at the speed indicated, and secondly, congratulations for raking in some cash for the police benevolence fund.

   The Journey

   What I DO NOT accept is that I was driving dangerously, or unsafely, or recklessly. No more so than the majority of the fellow migrants that I encountered on my long journey home. In the weekend that I committed this heinous crime, you see, I and my family (two small children, one regular sized wife) had travelled from South Wales, to Carlisle, to Fife, to Glasgow, and to Ardrossan in Ayrshire. From Ardrossan, we had travelled down through Scotland and headed back to South Wales.

   At no point in that journey did I come anywhere near endangering any other motorist’s life. The most dangerous thing that happened on the entire 973 mile round trip, was some idiotic sewer dweller tailgating me in heavy traffic and flashing the lights of her Audi repeatedly to get me to pull out of her way. As she passed, she took the time to have a short break in the conversation she was having on her mobile phone, to give me a filthy look. I’m sure she drove all the way home, with not a point on her licence or a fine to her name, at about 90mph.

   I, on the other hand, did my best to keep a fluid flow with the traffic, made sure I stayed at least two car lengths from the car in front and kept alert and aware at all times. I pride myself on having an excellent ability to stay alert while driving, and have excellent perception of danger.

   The Crime

   So, firstly, let me examine the crime which is going to take £60 worth of food out of my children’s mouths, and cost me three points on a licence that has been clean for over 15 years.

   I was doing 59mph, on a motorway, in a temporary 50 limit. Now, firstly, as I have pointed out, the traffic was flowing, but heavy by 15:00 on a busy stretch of motorway. I was following the mass of traffic in front, and being followed by the mass of traffic behind. Several times that day the road had been slowed to 50, then to 60, then back down to 50 because of the terrible conditions of strong wind and heavy rain in the morning. So if I was breaking the speed limit, I’d be quite interested to see the statistics of the number of other people caught during that 10 minute period of driving through that section of road works.

   59mph in a 50mph limit, so, that’s 9mph over the temporary speed limit. The speed of a casual jog. Although, I am led to understand after some research, that the recommended tolerance for U.K. speed limit enforcement is 10% of the speed limit (+2mph). So in a 50mph zone, that would be 10%*50(+2)=57mph. So in other words, what I was actually travelling at, was 2mph over the speed limit tolerance. The speed of a crippled glacier. I’ve moved quicker than that while asleep.

   My Options

   Still, 2mph, it’s a fair cop. My options now are to travel all the way up to Worcester to plead my case (costing my probably £60 fuel) or to plead guilty to this terrible act of automotive anarchy, take the three points on my unblemished licence, and send you a cheque for £60 that you’ll presumably put to use oppressing the proletariat or something.

   But hark! What is this we have? Another option?

   Yes! I can drive to Worcester (£60 fuel) and attend a course at a “Speed Awareness Workshop” – for which I‘ll be charged £80 – to be taught about speed awareness. I was travelling at 9mph over the speed limit and 2 mph over your own set tolerance and you want to try to blackmail me into attending a speed awareness course? That is the greatest act of condescension that I have been subjected to in my time on this earth.

   Over 900 miles I travelled in 3 days on the road (in a hurricane) and I didn’t have one moment of danger. Not a close call, barely even an angry glance. I drove carefully and alertly, yet you want to drag me 80 miles to Worcester (a very lovely city though it is) to make me waste a day off work, and indeed a day of my precious time on this mortal plane, to have you tell me that I shouldn’t travel 2mph faster than the speed limit on a motorway.

   My Response To Your Offer

   I am aware of the impact my car will have if it hits a bag of toddlers at 59mph on the m5 thank you very much. I am also aware that I could drive my car into my own toddler at 2mph and it probably wouldn’t even knock him over, and he’s none too steady on his feet.

   I would like to point out that I do not participate in, or endorse, the running over of toddlers, before you send the Sweeny around to beat me with hoses.

   I would like to respond to your insulting, condescending, pathetic offer of “Education” thusly:- I would rather obtain the course fee (£80) in 50 pence coins, heat them all in a pan, and push them individually up my own backside than be talked down to on safety by West Mercia constabulary.

   Could you please send me photographic evidence of my abhorrent infraction so that I can ascertain my own guilt, before I incriminate myself unnecessarily by filling out the guilty plea.

   I will then send off the £60 cheque and a copy of my (currently unblemished) driving license for endorsement.

   In Conclusion

   I am led to understand that the police do an incredibly difficult and admirable job. After watching several episodes of Booze Britain, it’s certainly not a job I would relish doing at 3am in Manchester City Centre, for example. However, it’s petty nonsense like this sort of administrative nitpickery that take money out of the pockets of average, law abiding citizens and unfortunately tarnish the good work that the police do in the eyes of the people who’s pockets you’re ransacking, thus losing respect in the public eye for decent, hard working police officers.

   I feel treating a person like a naughty school boy, because they were doing 2mph over a temporary speed limit, is not the way to garnish public respect. Especially in a time where every time I turn on my TV, I’m being told of plans to abolish the speed limit on motorways altogether.
   I would hope that anyone who reads this would agree that the punishment most certainly doesn’t fit the “crime” and the whole thing is a bit of a joke.

   Please respond to my letter promptly so that I am within my time limit to get the form back to you.

   God forbid it should arrive on your doorstep 43 seconds late or something.

   Yours faithfully

   Simon Cullen

   Dear Mr/Mrs Littlewoods,
   I wonder if you’d take the time to read these few words that I have felt compelled to write to you.

   This isn’t really a complaint as such because it not specifically about your product. If I’m honest, I’m not entirely sure what your product is nowadays. I know there are Littlewoods catalogues, which make is easier for us to buy things that we can’t afford. So I suppose, in a not really very roundabout way, your product is debt and misery.

   So I wouldn’t consider this a complaint against Littlewoods. Just something I needed to get off my chest.

   I’m a 39 year old man. That surprises me as much as ever, but at the time of writing this, I am 4 days away from striding, head held high, into my fifth decade. The only reason I bring this up, is because, a month and a week after my birthday, is Christmas and I love Christmas.

   I love Christmas as much now as I did when I was a small child.

   I love the long drawn out nights, where it’s dark by 5pm. The occasional bitter, icy evenings where the clouds part and the brilliance of an endless sprawl of sparkling heavens, shimmers in the chill December air.

   A magic starts to permeate the air, and as the winter bites your skin, Christmas warms you where it matters.

   For me, that’s what the Christmas season represents: traditions, memories and, above all, magic.

   Now, if I feel like that at (nearly) 40, then I can’t imagine how much that magic must feel amplified to my 6 year old son. He’s already too excited to get to sleep.

   He was writing his list to Santa the other day, and including things he’d like Santa to bring for his baby brother, because he was too young to write to Santa his self.

   He wanted to throw the list up the chimney so that Santa would collect it. I had to explain, that Santa only comes around on Christmas Eve and collects all the notes.

   You see, that’s one of our little family traditions at Christmas. We set out a carrot, and a mince pie on Christmas Eve (which I have to eat half of once the kids are asleep), light the fire, and send the Christmas lists up the chimney (I drop it down the back).
   These are the things we, as parents, remember our parents doing with us. Just trying to keep the magic alive in the season, for the sake of our kids – the things we treasure more than anything on earth.

   My son asked me how the note gets up the chimney. I said “well, I’ll let you decide, it’s either:- a.) heat convection causing the hot air to rise taking the note with it, or:- b.) magic

   He chose b.) because it was Christmas.

   Now, I know, to you, that Christmas means something else. I understand, that as a big business, Christmas to you means “spend you filthy proles”

   You need our money, so you have to advertise to us.
   I don’t see that as a bad thing really. Christmas adverts have sort of become a tradition of the season as well. Another sign that Christmas day is just around the corner.

   I know some people recently that were getting excited about the “coca cola” advert coming on this year because it signified to them that Christmas was around the corner.
   All power to them, personally, I care not a jizz how Coke decide they want to sell me their cloyingly sweet tooth-rot.

   What I do care about though, is when you make an advert that not only makes my son realise there is no magic, and makes him realise we’ve been lying to him for the last six years, and also makes him realise EVERYTHING is a lie…the tooth fairy, the Easter bunny, the baby Jesus…. all lies.

   What I care about, is when you decide to make an advert, that not only does all those things it makes me want to reach into the TV screen and slap the glasses off of a small girls face, because she is so affectedly and nauseatingly cute that she has given me type B diabetes.

   It does all that while making us feel incredibly depressed and insignificant, because we can’t afford to buy an Xbox360 (with Kinect I notice) for the cat or an incredibly gaudy watch that looks like it was torn screaming into being from Katie Price’s gargantuan cervix, for Uncle Gein.
   I can barely afford to pay for the wrapping paper never mind a cockamamie laptop for my dead grandfather’s knee.

   What should I do? Pay for it on the never-never with your good selves I presume?

   Xbox360 (with Kinect) £369,
   No idea what that hideous pink thing the “cute” girl is holding is
   Apple macbook air for grandpa £1199
   Optimus Prime £75
   HTC Wildfire S £229
   Fuji Camera £89.00
   Gaudy arse bauble (watch) £369

   It doesn’t take a maths professor to work out that that’s over £2000. And that’s just on six people. I take poos in a room with more than six people at Christmas. We end up buying presents for people I’ve never heard of, met, seen or have any desire to do any of the previous.

   I’d be ejaculating tens of thousands of pounds up you’re debt pipe before the Boxing Day flatulence had even started up.

   You’re saccharine-sweet little nativity scene of consumer pressure has offended me on more levels than I knew I had. I want to rend the surface of my eyes with a hot fork as soon as it defecates across my screen, and I would, if I wasn’t already busy trying to tear off my pained, offended ears.

   Its 40 seconds of soul destroying, joyless spume, that kills anything to do with Christmas, joy, magic or humanity and drags away the innocence of our children. Our child’s innocent naivety and belief in what he is told, has been destroyed by your complicity in this taudry little conceit which you’re flickering into our homes.
   This “outing” of the fact that Santa doesn’t exist has spread through an entire classroom full of 6 year olds, and Littlewoods: “J’accuse”
   To be honest, I’m not the sort of person who wishes harm on anyone, but IF I was, those people would mostly be involved in marketing. So I don’t think Littlewoods are really the people at fault here. I think the people really at fault were the cocaine addled, blue-sky turdwits who thought this abortion of creativity up.
   I will, though, forever associate it with your company. You have soiled yourself all over my opinion, and, from what I can tell from everyone I speak to, you have dropped your Goodsouls men’s trousers (2 pack, £38.00) and loosed your bowels all over the opinions of the general public.

   I think, once upon a time, I held an account with Littlewoods, and it all ended badly, with me spending an entire evening on hold on the telephone because you’d charged me for something you shouldn’t have.
   I probably wrote you a letter.

   If I still have an account open with Littlewoods, the next time your god forsaken little message drags its fetid sphincter across my T.V screen, I will seek out that account and immediately cancel it.

   I will make it my one true goal in life to spread the word across Facebook, Twitter and every other format I can think of to urge people to cancel all accounts with Littlewoods until the advert is pulled off the air.

   Sounds like the sort of thing that would catch on with one of those odd, campaigning little Facebook groups that pop up doesn’t it!

   Please, I urge you, don’t try to justify yourselves by saying it’s a “cute twist on the nativity” and “all about family”. That’s just condescending to us. You’re assuming that we’re too stupid to understand the less than subtle subtext of your advert:- that’s not “muvver” who put all that overpriced aspiration under our tree, but Littlewoods.

   You haven’t paid hundreds of thousands of pounds creating an advert for mothers; it’s about your brand.

   Please do the decent thing, admit that this advert was a horrible mistake, pull it as soon as possible and go with a puppet reindeer slipping on a roller skate or something.

   Remember, you’re human beings, you were kids once. You believed in magic, not hot air convection. WE all know it’s our “luvlee luvleeee muvverrrrrr” who spends money she doesn’t have and plunges us into a spiralling oblivion of consumer debt, but WE should be the people who ruin it all for our children, not, my dear Mr Littlewoods, you.

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