Apple: Let’s Piss Away a Billion Dollars Together
This week, I made the grave mistake of updating the software on my iPhone. Just like last time, the Bluetooth in my car could no longer see the phone. That made me rather cross...
Mr. Tim Cook
CEO
Apple
1 Infinite Loop,
Cupertino,
CA 95014,
United States
And by email to tcook@apple.com
Dear Tim,
I love my iPhone. I’m pretty crazy about my iPad too.
I work in the design business so I truly appreciate the flawless combination of cutting edge technology and sublime aesthetics. Apple products genuinely have set a new benchmark for product design.
However, iTunes is a crock of shit Tim.
I used to get better software on the 3½“ floppy disks stuck to the front of the early PC Magazines back in the days when a 48Mb hard drive was as cool as penguin piss. There are an awful lot of awful things I despise about iTunes but the thing I hate the most are the iPhone software updates. They are the inflatable dartboard of the software world. The chocolate teapot of programming.
The other day, it just so happens that I was trying to get some photographs off my iPhone onto my laptop. No matter how I tried, Explorer and My Computer could not see the iPhone. So, I started iTunes and it informed me that my phone needed updating. I naturally figured that this could be the source of the problem and so reluctantly clicked on the horrid little button.
To my initial delight, it worked. Everything was absolutely fine until I tried to use the iPhone in my car. As far as the car was concerned Tim, my iPhone had simply disappeared. The laptop could see the phone as clear as day. The car was now as blind as a bat.
What gives you the right, Tim, to change the software so that my BMW voice-activated Bluetooth no longer talks to my iPhone? There wasn’t anything wrong with the Bluetooth, so why the hell did you change it? Why did you fix something that wasn't broken? Why did you dick around with it? WHY?
Do you know how much it costs to update the Bluetooth software in a BMW Tim? Do you?
Well, as of this morning, it cost £100.00 (including VAT). That’s $154 Tim. And that’s actually gone down in price. The last time you fu#@ed up my Bluetooth, it cost me £147 ($226).
But it’s not just me is it, Tim?
BMW sold 1.54 million[1] out of a global total of 60 million cars sold last year. So, on that basis, 2.6% of the cars in the world are BMWs. As there are over 1 billion cars on the planet, that means there are at least 26 million BMWs. Let’s say for the sake of argument that just 30% of those are fitted with Bluetooth (although it’s probably far more than that).
So, we have at least 7.8 million BMW drivers with Bluetooth. Given that your share of the global smartphone market is 18.2% and it is reasonably safe to assume that if you can afford a BMW with Bluetooth, you're also going to have a smartphone, it follows that you have seriously pissed off just over 1.4 million people!
If each of these is paying an average of $154 to fix the problem you created, then you have forced your customers to squander more than $215 million. TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN MILLION DOLLARS TIM!
And that’s just the BMW drivers. If we add in the Minis, the Mercedes, the Lexuses, the Range Rovers, the Jaguars and, who knows, even a few American cars, you have caused the pissing away of BILLIONS OF DOLLARS!
Damn it all Tim, that’s even more than you earn!
And that’s just scratching the surface. Imagine if you add in all the downtime.
This week, I have had to drive to Bath and Glasgow. For your information Tim, those places are at opposite ends of our little island[2] and each of them is a four hour drive away from my home. So that’s two round trips of eight hours or 16 hours in total. The reason that I paid BMW’s obscene premium to have the hands-free Bluetooth in the first place was so that I could make calls whilst on long journeys such as this. Ordinarily, I would spend most of my time on the phone in connection with my business. As I have already said, I work in the design business and I’m actually pretty good at my job. Let’s say that my time is conservatively worth $300 per hour and I would have spent just half my time productively on the phone.
That’s another $2,400 you owe me Tim – plus a couple of hours to go and get the bloody software upgrade done in the first place so that makes it a round $3,000 in downtime.
Then there’s the loss of productivity back at the office because my team couldn’t get hold of me. We’ve got 18 highly skilled design staff back at the ranch and several of them were unable to get their work done because I was unavailable for 16 hours. Estimated cost to our business - $8,000.
I appreciate that I represent just 6.76x10-10 of your global market share, [3] but you’re a very clever guy and clever guys listen to their customers. So, stop messing with the Bluetooth every time you update the phone software. Get iTunes replaced with a half decent piece of software. Stop pissing off the people whose money you take home every month. If you don’t, that stock price is only going one way.
In the meantime, you owe me $11,154. You can make your cheque[4] payable to me and remit it to the address at the head of the snail mail copy of this letter.
Sincerely,
Anthony Matthews
Help spread the word about Dear Customer Relations and hit the Facebook 'Like' button below:
Nestle: May the Spooge be With You
This letter was submitted by Jen Bridges, author of the highly original OfHerbsAndAltars Blog (link in sidebar for those who are not easily offended). This is one of Jen's less unusual letters and it received a great reply from Nestlé:
“Dear Minion to Nestlé,
I write to you today, regarding your ‘Ski Lemon Mousse’. I saw the packaging and thought, ‘Mmm, lemon mousse, well that sounds very nice indeed!’ I gaily tossed one into my basket, then thought ‘What the hell – I shall go wild and buy two packages, for where could I ever go wrong with something so wonderful as a lemon mousse’. So, I survived the Easter Saturday till-scrum, and skipped joyfully home with my purchases. On arrival, I gleefully whipped the top from said mousse. Oh dear, I said to myself sadly, surveying the deflated spooge inside. It was a sickly shade, akin to the spongey yellow skin of a drained corpse. I stuck my spoon into it, and it only got worse. Around the outside, there was a strange, dribbly secretion , resembling some kind of unpleasant mucus. And think yourself lucky, dear reader, for this is the less explicit metaphor I could have used. But, I thought, come now – one should not judge a book by its cover, beauty is in the eye of the beholder! So I took one giant leap for mankind, and put the spoon in my mouth… It tasted, dear reader, like crap. Now, as you realise, I would prefer to use a flowery, poetic metaphor – a one word description cannot build a full picture, I feel! But sadly, the only word that suffices, is crap. The texture was something akin to polly filler, a sort of unpleasant, shrivelling squidge.
On the pot, I see gleaming, juicy, Sicilian lemons, against a backdrop of bright blue sky – warmth, promise, beauty! Oh, cruel world that you are, to offer such promise, and deliver such spooge.
I survey the pot, morbidly curious about this nemesis, this cruel demon that has cast so much misery into my path. I see it describes the aforementioned mucus as ‘meringue style sauce’. Oh deary me. I delve into my pot, searching for answers. The mucus bubbles wetly, pooling beneath the frothy spittle of the spooge, resembling nothing more than stale urine.
I could go on, waxing poetical about the Jism of Beelzebub that is the Ski Lemon Mousse. I am tempted to go on a conquest of tasting, sampling the others flavours of Ski Mousse, mayhaps sending you a cheerful communication on the subject of each. But I won’t. I have things to do, like sitting down. But I feel you needed to know, dear reader – the truth is out. It is within you now, like a hookworm, wriggling as it burrows into your stomach lining. You have the truth – what you choose to do with it is up to you. Are you up to the challenge, brave warrior, of single handedly toppling the evil Ski Mousse Empire, armed with this burning sword of truth?
Fare thee well, little crusader. May the spooge be with you.
Samuel
(Gratefully hijacking this email address. I don’t have one – ghastly things. I do rather like Youtube though…)”
And Nestlé's reply:
“Dear Samuel
Thank you for getting in touch about our Ski Lemon Mousse.
We were of course very surprised and disappointed to hear that our popular and yummy dessert was so unappreciated by your clearly very refined palette.
Of course we appreciate that every man, woman and child cannot enjoy all of our products and taste in food is very much subjective, but we also appreciate the honest and articulate feedback that you have given us. We will of course pass this on to our colleagues in the marketing and brand teams so that they may feast on the veritable banquet of storytelling that you have bequeathed unto us.
Thank you once again for taking the trouble to contact us, especially after such a trying ordeal. I hope you feel assured that your so-called “burning sword of truth” has been plunged into the very heart of the Ski Mousse empire.
May the spooge also be with you.
Yours sincerely
Paul Jones
Consumer Relations Executive
Consumer Services”
Help spread the word about Dear Customer Relations and hit the Facebook 'Like' button below:
Glorious Foods – Oodles of Noodles?
This latest letter was contributed by Father Bill Haymaker. Father Bill is from East Sussex and he does wonderful work supporting the victims of child trafficking in Eastern Europe. Take some time out to check out his work at www.ProjectNewLife.org.
Bill's letter was sent to The Glorious Foods Company, a well known manufacturer of soups that are rather more expensive than your average soup. It seems that his carton of New York Chicken Noodle Soup not only failed to deliver oodles of noodles but also failed to constitute any threat to the UK chicken population....
Message: 26 Jan, 2013
To the Glorious Foods Company
Re: Glorious “New York Chicken Noodle Soup”
Code: 14FEB (F6) 09:36
Dear Friends
I doubt under general conditions that I would bother writing you, but because I feel so utterly lousy right this moment, I know my senses are heightened. So, in advance, I apologise unreservedly for my crankiness and horrible attitude. But when I'm in intense pain, I take it out on my keyboard....and keys are flying off the board today.
Following an event with my dentist that could only be visualised by Quentin Tarantino, I was in utter agony and desperate to get home and load myself up with copious quantities of drugs (mostly legal).
Heading home, I was eager to find something to ease the searing pain in my mouth, calm my stomach and salve my brain. My first inclination was to get some chicken broth and egg noodles and make a calming 'Jewish Penicillin" (in the New York tradition), soup.
At my local Sainsbury’s, I happened across what I thought was manna from Heaven, a panacea in the midst of my agony, a rejoinder of pity from Yahweh, or the BVM herself! There it was - illuminated- as if it were drawing me to it, a container of 'New York Chicken Noodle Soup.'
There could have been nothing better to sooth the savage beast within me to help nurture my suffering... Every Jewish Mother's answer to everything under the sun - from pimples, to Mrs Broskowizc's unmarried daughter, to a broken leg, to sitting Shiva! And it was the prescription for anyone suffering from the death of a cold to a failed relationship - Chicken Noodle Soup.
I needn't look any further. I grabbed the container, already imagining being at home, tucked into my bed with the covers pulled up, some pathetically droll show on BBC2 - Crustaceans Through History, and my bed tray containing my golden chicken broth, my warm noodles which I could just get by gumming on the other side of my mouth, and rich, torn strands of white and dark meat chicken.
You can't imagine my utter shock when I finally got the vice grips to tear off the errant sealing seal and discovered the contents: no rich golden broth, no soothing noodles - just “Two.Point.Five” percent of barely noticeable thin strands of nothing, presented as 'noodles' that I could taste., and most surprising of all - NO chicken- not a scintilla! Sadly, in this recipe, all the chicken you could possibly use will never turn this abomination into 'New York' chicken noodle soup!
New Yorker's are the epitome of 'read the label.' I challenge you to show me a 'New Yorker' who would pass this stuff off as 'New York Chicken Noodle.' Due to the diversity of New York, there are cultural mores which are simply a given and a New Yorker’s chicken soup is one of them. New York Chicken Soup is sacrosanct! It conjures up images of your auntie Edna in her kitchen, so large that she has never left the kitchen in 20 years – her life is cooking! And she lives over a pot of chicken stock that’s on the hob 24/7! And some of my Jewish friends have told me that to have ‘New York’ chicken noodle soup is to become an instant convert! The noodles quickly manifest into matzo balls, but everything else is the same.
I do have an idea for you, however: purchase a weekend return ticket to New York. Go to ANY deli in Manhattan, go to Dallas Barbeque on E 72nd, go to the Plaza Hotel, go to the Marriott at Times Square, go to Sylvia's in Harlem on Lenox – Go to the New York Diner - just go anywhere and let a New Yorker show you what 'New York Chicken Noodle' soup is! Please! Soon!
To add insult to injury - this stuff tastes atrocious! Why leave us (The English) with the misconception that not only is New York Chicken Noodle Soup ghastly, but the recipe itself is hideous as well!
Shame on you! Shame on you!
Perhaps you can enrol in your own competition for a weekend trip to New York, to see what Chicken Noodle Soup tastes like... you don't even need to go in to Manhattan! Stay at Kennedy Airport and go to the local supermarket and buy a tin of Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup. At least, at least, they have the recipe right! Or from the airport Marriott you can have a hearty bowl of ‘New York’ chicken noodle soup delivered to you via Room Service. And finally, forget the airline ticket (was I getting you excited?), just go to the Marriott on the Bath Road at Heathrow and ask for a bowl of Chicken Noodle soup. It’s available 24/7 from Room Service, or in their restaurant ‘Allie’s American Grille.’
Now, it's time for my next morphine tablet. Just no flippin soup!
If you'd like to see a photo of Chicken Noodle Soup à la New York, I'd be pleased to share some with you. I think I've taken photos of the past three Chicken Noodle Soups for the AllRecipes.com website.
I'm British and even I, a typical British male who knows sod-all about cooking, know how to make chicken noodle soup! Shame on you!
I've just discovered my dog even hates it! The Venerable Mr Piddles has refused to touch it. Considering some of the things he's been guilty of eating in the past, this makes a rather strong statement!
I’ve left it to him to send his own comments. He’s far more balanced than I am at the moment as he has had no dental surgery!
In summary, slapping a label on this tripe and calling it ‘New York Chicken Noodle Soup’ is about as effectual as slapping a label that says ‘Prime Minister’ on Gordon Brown.
Father Bill Haymaker+
PS.
Just an addendum to this glorious day of wasting time complaining about soup – twice now I’ve attempted to post my epistle to your ‘Happy Face’ collection of options. Right about this moment I’m wishing you had a punched in face option. It simply refuses to go beyond the ‘submit’ button. With a degree of trepidation I suspect it has to do with the length of my epistle. Unfortunately, as you’ve failed to tell customers that your contact box refuses to allow any messages over a thousand characters, or possibly messages that contain disparaging comments about soup you portray to be from New York! Mr Piddles suggested to me that it may have to do with the suggestions I had as to what you could do with this soup, but as I say, he’s far more balanced today.
So I had the pleasure of speaking (twice) to a voice male (not to be confused with mail), who transferred me to a voice mail named ‘Dave,’ Provided Dave can get this little miracle of modern technology to work, I’ll spare him from suffering having to speak with me today about our little contretemps – it’s probably in his best interest anyway.
For your own joy, I respectfully submit (one of countless) url’s for ‘New York’ Chicken Noodle Soup, as well as a photo of my own made-at-home ‘English Chicken Noodle Soup. They look suspiciously similar because they are! They’re New York Chicken Noodle soups!
http://www.tinynewyorkkitchen.com/chicken-noodle-soup/
Glorious Foods replied very promptly. It seems that Father Bill's preferences were not in line with the Glorious Foods New York Chicken Noodle Soup flavour profile but no matter, Bill's concerns were being "communicated to the highest level" within the company. So that's OK then.
Enjoy that? Help spread the word and hit the Facebook 'Like' button below:
<script
Walkers Crinkles: A Crispy Atrocity
This email exchange with Walkers Crisps was submitted by Mark Jorgensen who has a number of other complaint letters on his his blog (link at the foot of this post). It seems that Mark didn't think his bag of Crinkles was quite as full as it should have been:
From: Mark Jorgensen
To: consumer@walkers.co.uk
Subject: Walkers Crinkles
Dear Customer Relations,
Firstly I’d like to offer my congratulations on your longstanding excellence in the crisp game. Your salt and vinegar flavour has been my crisp of choice for as long as I can remember. They have added a sumptuous sandwich-enhancing crunch to many a lunchtime throughout the years.
However, I would like to raise an issue of immense concern. I’m not talking about the continued use of jug-eared smug merchant Linekar in your condescending television adverts (that meerkat makes Gary look like f**king Shaft so you’re excused by proxy), nor am I talking about the ‘zany’ Cajun squirrel farrago.
My issue concerns the attached photograph of a packet of your recent ‘crinkles’ range.
The keen-eyed amongst you may be able to just about make out the tiny island of crinkled crisps bashfully nestled amongst a vast expanse of foil wrapper.
I have long been interested in some of the more colourful collective nouns for various things, notably a romp of otters, a business of ferrets, a glob of Austrians, a git of bishops or a funk of vegans. This is, however, what I can only describe as a f**k you of crisps.
Please excuse my rather coarse language but that is earnestly the impression I got from this purchase. An insult. I’m a passionate man particularly when it comes to crisps. I remember once a French exchange student tried to tell me the puerile Pom Bear is a vastly superior crisp to Walkers. I defended your honour with what I can only describe as a devastatingly executed ‘bitchslap’. I ’m not proud of my actions, my mother was furious and being about 4 years older than me, the crisp-daft Frenchman gave me a beating of unforgettable magnitude. But on principle, I stand by my convictions.
Despite my foolhardy defense of our fine British crisp-making heritage, the night I received the above it felt like the vast Walkers Corporation were some ghoulish Fagan-like character, flinging a thimble full of gruel in my general direction for having the audacity to pay 70p for a beloved snack (Before retiring to his private chambers with a gaggle of impressionably young cockney pickpockets).
Thankfully, this was in a bar where my motive for the crisps was simply to mop up alcohol, but next time I may not be so lucky. If this was a lunchtime treat, I very much doubt whether this meagre amount of crisps would have been sufficient to fill even the most conservatively sized sandwich.
This isn’t to detract from their quality - the crisps themselves were delicious. The crinkled crisp has often been a huge favourite of mine due to the explosive pockets of flavour encased within the grooves of each crisp. McCoys have typically dominated this market since the demise of the once-loved Frisp, but yours are up there.
Quality is usually better than quantity in most walks of life but in crisps, a carefully observed balance is pivotal.
Take Discos for example. Their salt and vinegar range are delicious, but they might as well just put a small photograph of one crisp lazily dusted with flavouring. (Don’t even get me started on their so-called larger ‘Grab Bags’).
Again, it is with great regret that I contact you in this manner, as I am a staunch advocate of your brand, but I feel I must vent my crispy disgust at this atrocity.
I would therefore like to request the following –
- An explanation of the quality control policies of your crinkle range.
- Remuneration of the 70p I paid for the crisps.
- A personalised apology from one of your brand ambassadors. i.e. Linekar, Lionel Ritchie or, preferably, a signed photograph of Charlotte Church[1] nakedly frolicking in a bath of crisps like a sexy Scrooge McDuck.
Thanks in advance and I look forward to hearing from you.
Mark Jorgensen
From: thurmaston.consumer@pepsico.com
To: Mark Jorgensen
Subject: Your Unique Reference Number is – 000471190A: Your Contact About Walkers Crinkles
Dear Mark
Thank you for your recent emails regarding your purchase of Walkers Crinkles. I am really sorry that it has taken so long for us to get back to you.
It’s really disappointing for us to learn that your Crinkles packet contained few crisps – all of our packets are filled to weight, and hence this packet should have topped 32g.
Sadly, without the pack coding, it is very difficult to fully investigate the nature of this complaint but we do appreciate that your purchase was not of the quality you’d expect from us. We have therefore, noted your feedback on this particular pack for our Plant Teams to review as part of their ongoing quality evaluations.
I do hope that you have no further concerns with any of our products, however, should this not be the case, we would appreciate your help in sending the unsatisfactory product back to us at the following Freepost address or please do not hesitate to call us on our freephone number 0800 274777.
WALKERS SNACK FOODS LIMITED
CUSTOMER SERVICES DEPARTMENT
FREEPOST LE4918
LEICESTER
LE4 5ZY
In the meantime, if you would like to let me have your full postal address I will be more than happy to send you out some Walkers vouchers, with my compliments (unfortunately the photograph of the lovely Charlotte Church isn’t so easy for me to arrange)
I look forward to hearing from you
Regards
Sue
Customer Services
From: Mark Jorgensen
To: consumer@walkers.co.uk
Subject: Your Unique Reference Number is – 000471190A: Your Contact About Walkers Crinkles
Hi Sue,
Thank you for the email and I accept your sincere apologies for the delay. I apologise for sending a secondary email, I can be a little impatient at times and I am trying to make sure I address this. But as my brother once said as a child impishly awaiting Christmas morning “if I’m patient I can’t have it NOW”.
I’m pleased that you will take on my feedback. I would be loathed to think that collectively we couldn’t use this tragedy which has befallen me to ensure that no one else will suffer a paltry crisp fiasco in the future. If your Plant Team does require any feedback/input regarding the quality procedures then I would be happy to offer this on a consultancy basis in exchange for either Charlotte Church, or a nominal fee of a pre-agreed quantity of crisps. Let me know anyway.
Thank you for your very kind offer of some vouchers (and your compliments, naturally), my address is -
Flat 3
XXXX
XXXX
XXX
Is there any room for negotiation on the Charlotte Church thing? I could contact her and request the picture and say that you said it was ok?
Crispy wishes,
Mark Jorgensen
From: thurmaston.consumer@pepsico.com
To: Mark Jorgensen
Subject: Your Unique Reference Number is – 000471190A: Your Contact About Walkers Crinkles
Dear Mark
Thank you for your recent email reply and for providing me with your address details.
I will be popping some Walkers vouchers into the post for you this evening – the amount of these will lend themselves more to be spent in a supermarket (maybe for a few multipacks of Crinkles?)
Spend them as you see fit and enjoy
Regards
Sue
Customer Services
P.s Incidentally the dictionary definition of impatience reads ‘intolerance of anything that thwarts, delays, or hinders’ – so not always a bad trait.
And still no luck with Charlotte.
[1] Charlotte Church is a voluptuous singer and TV personality from Wales. Everybody from Wales can sing but Charlotte has a very impressive chest which may be why she became famous. That doesn’t explain why Tom Jones became so famous though.
To read more of Mark's letters, visit his blog at : http://markjorgy.wordpress.com/
Enjoy that? Help spread the word and hit the Facebook 'Like' button below:
Goodness Gracious, Great Balls of Fire…
I just got back from a holiday in the Greek Islands - and very nice it was too. Usually after a holiday, I would be complaining to airlines or hotels but this time, I had a very unusual experience with a faulty cigaratte lighter.....
Ronson International
Station Works
Long Buckby
Northampton
NN6 7PF
Dear Customer Relations,
I recently acquired one of your lighters.
To be more precise, I acquired a Ronson ‘Colourlite’ disposable lighter in navy/white[1]. According to your website, the lighter is “dependable and easy to use” and “comes in 5 vibrant colours”. What’s more, it conforms to ISO 9994[2] which is very reassuring. The packaging states that it is “child safe approved”. This is obviously a very safe lighter.
Unfortunately, that last statement is complete and utter bollocks.
And talking of bollocks, that just happens to be what the lighter was resting against when it exploded.
Yes, that’s right, exploded. Like a hand grenade.
It just so happens that I was wearing a pair of swimming shorts at the time. Consequently, I was not wearing underwear of any kind which might have cushioned the impact. No, my wedding tackle was nestled in a fine net gusset – designed no doubt to allow ventilation in but stop testicles getting out and making an unscheduled appearance down the leg of the shorts when I was reclining on a sunbed. As any soldier will tell you, a fine net gusset is no substitute for Kevlar body armour.
I had just been out on the balcony of our hotel room in Mykonos to enjoy a cigarette and returning to the room, I put the cigarette packet and lighter into the pocket of my shorts. Soon afterwards, there was a deafening bang , followed a split second later by excruciating pain causing me to drop to my knees screaming something along the lines of “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!”
The loud bang, my collapse and the horrendous noises I was making convinced my wife that I had been shot and she went into an immediate panic – unable to decide whether to run to my aid or hide under the bed. For my part, I was too busy feeling like I had been kicked in the nuts by an invisible horse.
Having absolutely no idea what had happened, I eventually plucked up the courage to put my hand into the pocket of my shorts to inspect the damage. There, alongside my throbbing testicle, I discovered the lighter – now in two very distinct pieces.
At this point, you have probably decided that I am making this up so to demonstrate that I am in fact telling the truth, I include below a photograph[3] of the lighter taken after the explosion:
It is indeed fortunate that the shrapnel was not sharper. The thought of having a two inch piece of plastic embedded in my soft and tender parts still makes my eyes water.
Be that as it may, I (and my wife for that matter) have been through a very traumatic experience. The incident didn’t do a lot for my holiday sex life either I can tell you! My right testicle is still throbbing gently as I write this – whether from the lingering effects of the injury or because it knows what I’m writing I cannot say. I shall probably suffer from bouts of post traumatic stress disorder.
At the very least, you owe me a disposable lighter – preferably one that doesn’t belong on the business end of a cruise missile. I hope though that you will feel that my unique experience is deserving of a gesture of compensation.
A couple of World Cup Final tickets would be nice.
Yours achingly,
Anthony
To their credit, Ronson replied straight away:
Dear David,
I was amused by your colourful description of events involving our Colourlite lighter (I am not sure how the girls in our customer service dept viewed it??[1]) On the serious side, I was concerned to hear of this incident and am anxious to inspect the lighter to see if I can establish what caused the tank to shatter. Could I ask you to please send the remains to me at the address below. We will send you 2 x £5 Tesco Vouchers[2] to cover the cost of the postage and for you to purchase a replacement – this is a good will gesture made without prejudice.
If you could shed any further light on events leading to the incident i.e. if the lighter had been dropped or exposed to direct sunlight. Also your photo was not clear enough to read the logo and the date stamp on the metal flameguard on the side opposite to that photographed. If you could let me know this information by return I can start the investigation.
I do hope your tackle is sufficiently recovered to enable a resumption of normal activity[3].
Best regards
Brian Wells
Technical Services Manager Ronson International Ltd Station Road Long Buckby Northampton NN6 7PF[1] They enjoyed it a lot actually. They emailed me separately to tell me so. To quote: “ I would like to say, from the girls in the office, you put a smile on our faces!”
[2] My wife stole the vouchers and spent them on wine so I still haven’t got a new lighter.
[3] Actually, I think that there’s an even greater lack of symmetry than there was before the explosion.
Enjoy that? Help spread the word and hit the Facebook 'Like' button below:
Innocent Smoothie Turned Me into a Parrot!
This rather silly letter was written by Thomas de Graaff who I believe is probably Dutch. What is more certain is that Thomas is a mad as a sack of rabid cats, as you can see by following the sidebar link to his 'Dear Ferrero' Blog.
Anyway, when they received Thomas's letter, rather than calling the guys in the white coats, those very sporting chaps at Innocent Drinks decided to humour Thomas with a reply - and a rather fetching portrait of Thomas!
Dear Innocent Drinks,
Allow me to explain how a seemingly innocent smoothie of yours has changed my life in the most incredible way. You may find my account hard to believe, however I feel it is vital that you be aware of what your product has been capable of.
It all started on an unusually hot August evening in 1921. With much of the strawberry-infested European continent in the grip of a scorching heat wave, water scarcity had reached a critical stage nationwide. As I went about picking beans on my neighbour’s vegetable field, my attention was promptly drawn to the top of a bottle protruding from the dry cracked soil. Curious as I was, for an inexplicable reason I couldn’t bring myself to touch it. Instead, struck by a sudden sense of disorientation I got up and ran off.
Upon returning home I was astonished to find that very same bottle sitting on the kitchen table. It bore a label reading “innocent”, which led me into believing that the pink coloured liquid contained within would be safe to drink. So I unscrewed the cap, brought the bottle to my lips and emptied it in one go.
Shortly after, the drowsiness set in. When I woke up, I immediately felt that something wasn’t quite right. My body mass seemed to have dropped significantly, my field of view had changed, and moving was a different experience altogether. Later that night, dad affirmed that I had morphed into a parrot.
I have been longing to write to you for many decades. The main challenge I faced was to build up a sufficiently sized vocabulary which would enable me to dictate my letter to a human being. On the one hand, I am grateful for still feeling fit at the advanced age of 95. On the other hand, I feel that there is so much I could have achieved if only I hadn’t drunk your smoothie and morphed into a bird. That is why first of all, I would like to ask you for some sort of compensation. Also, and perhaps more importantly, I would like to learn whether you know of any similar cases. I would be delighted to meet a few individuals who have lived through the same experience as I have.
I look forward to your reply.
Yours sincerely,
Thomas
Remarkably, the staff in the Innocent Drinks Customer Relations Department replied very much in the spirit of Thomas's letter:
Hello there Thomas,
We’re sorry to hear that you’ve spent much of your life as a bird, though we can’t help but think about all the good stuff that comes with having a set of wings.
The perks of being a bird include:
- great view at all times
- no rush hour traffic
- you can live wherever you want
- great singing voice
- fully entitled to attack nut-stealing squirrels
- you were ‘tweeting’ way before we were
We do realise though, that there are some things you will have missed out on over the years, like:
- Sunday roasts
- wearing the latest fashions
- having an iPad
- watching Deal or No Deal*
- being able to do the robot dance
We’d love to say sorry by sending you something nice, but don’t have your address yet. If you’d like to tell us which tree you’re currently living in (along with the postcode) we’ll pop something in the post for you.
Hope to hear from you soon,
Rio
*unless you’re perched outside someone’s front room window
What's more, Rio sent a voucher and a drawing of how they imagined Thomas must now look (though his ornithological knowledge is clearly not a great deal better than his spelling!):
Enjoy that? Help spread the word and hit the Facebook 'Like' button below:
Pantene: Disappearing Curls
I have always considered that it would be better to be bald than have curly hair - which is a good job as most of my hair migrated in a southerly direction many years ago and now makes only brief appearances on my ears, the bridge of my nose and various other parts of my anatomy. Not so for Michael Scott Thomson. He is immensly proud of his curly locks and was seriously miffed when his favorite shampoo for curly tops disappeared from the supermarket shelves - so he decided to appeal to the manufacturer:
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Dear Pantene,
I am writing because, comparatively recently, you manufactured, bottled and distributed what I can only describe as a veritable topically-applied ambrosia. Or, if you like, an elixir of life which nourished, protected, moisturised, tamed and, without wishing to appear in the slightest way narcissistic you understand, elevated the status of my appearance to the slightly-more-lofty levels of 'not-bad' as opposed to its usual 'fair-to-middling'.
O Pantene, O brewer of enchanted follicular potion, it is the case that I have curly hair. Yet you have stopped making "Perfect Curls". That is, the shampoo, conditioner AND the 2-in-1 combined variety.
Why is this, pray tell?
I have one bottle of my last year's supply of shampoo left; there are about two inches of the stuff remaining. Even a promotional stripe under the lid proclaims '25% Bigger Size'. It's just as well, is it not, that you were generous enough to give away a quarter extra back then, otherwise it would have ran out long ago. Maybe you considered you owed us curly-tops in lieu for the truly tragic moment in the then-future that you decided to unceremoniously whip it away from under our noses.
I've been using it at a premium - the tiniest dollop for the most special of special occasions. It's been far too valuable for humdrum day-to-day application.
Let's take a look at the back of the bottle. I always admired your instructions, always so much more than mere "rinse, lather, repeat", inscribed in plain English:
"Do you have: Natural or permed curly hair?"
My answer: Yes. Natural though. Never permed. Funny, isn't it, how people with naturally curly hair often want to straighten it out, and those with straight hair often want perms? Such folks, women usually, are often those who toy dangerously with those shocking white-hot pincer metal things, lethal gadgets like irons for one's hair, its merest touch against human skin enough to administer third degree burns. A girl I know, in the process of curling her hair, once scolded her cheek with one of those things. The ensuing scar resembled a Cheesy Wotsit [1] glued to her face and there it stayed for the rest of the month, until her coffee break one bright morning when it peeled off by itself and floated, ever so gently, to the office floor. Still, I guess it keeps you conglomorates in business.
"But you want: Beautifully defined, shiny, bouncy curls?"
My answer: Yes please. My hair is the only part of me which can and does, to a degree, bounce when I use that shampoo, so it's a welcome bonus to have the ability to do just that. Another part of me once tried to bounce, but it went horribly wrong. I won't go into that here and I'll leave you to guess which part. No, it's not that.
On the bottle you next stated "Pantene's 3 steps for beautifully defined, shiny, bouncy curls", which were, in truncated form here, to use 1) Perfect Curls Shampoo, 2) Perfect Curls Conditioner, and 3) Pantene Pro-V Style Perfect Curls defining mousse.
Well, I can only assume this stellar advice, implied by the crushing blank spaces on the supermarket shelves where these products once stood, now reads something akin to this: Get lost, corkscrew-bonce![2]
I understand, you are not the first and will by no means be the last conglomerate to discontinue a perennial favourite with a loyal fan base. I'm still smarting over the disappearance of Lynx Apollo goodness knows how many years ago (that wasn't you as well, was it?), and the lack of Fuse Bars has only been marginally compensated by the reappearance of Wispas. No, I've never tried to wash my hair with any of those things, but you know what I mean.
But really, nothing was quite like Perfect Curls. Your worthy competitors never quite reached the same heights. Sunsilk got the closest, although their bottles were never that big, and Herbal Essences weren't bad with their wittily-named "It's a Curl Thing" range (even though I assure everyone I'm every bit a man). But even those items have gone from the shelves. The only affordable option now is Naked Bounce, which, valiant effort though it is, just doesn't cut it for me.
I hear through various online sources that you suggest, for curly people, using a (new?) mousse now available. I have to raise an exasperated chuckle at this. Me, mousse? Firstly, I don't like putting sticky things in my hair. Sellotape, blu-tack, lollypops; it's all bad. That includes mousse for me, I'm afraid. Besides, first thing in the morning when I am FAR from compos-mentis, fannying about with cloud-like goo is beyond the realms of my capabilities. I once, by accident, brushed my teeth with Bonjela for crying out loud. I spent the rest of the day looking like Ken Dodd and sounding like a Gumby.
But all may be not lost, and there is a glimmer of hope on the horizon. Last week I went to Spain for a relaxing holiday on the Costa Del Sol (I stayed in Coín - it's where they used to film Eldorado - sorry, I digress again). The supermarkets there were generously equipped with 'Rizos Perfectos', and, since I have the benefit of being a fluent Spanish speaker, as well as having recognised the identical branding, knew the stuff at once. Such a novelty it was to see it back on the shelves again I almost did one of those clicky-heel things in mid air.
And, back at the apartment and under the shower, my hair, and indeed my nostrils, were treated to the most scintillating indulgence worthy of the highest spa in the land. It wasn't only my hair which bounced for the rest of the day.
I came back with eight bottles. It'll last me, ooh, three months maybe. Then what? A shampoo pilgrimage to the set of failed soap operas?
So after all the above piffle, I guess I should get to the point, and that is: I am wondering - have you really just stopped making Pro-V Perfect Curls, or is it just that you consider us Brits unworthy? Is there something about Spain and, potentially, the rest of Europe, which mean they are more deserving?
Did I just luck out on that occasion?
And if you have stopped it, is it really because people stopped buying it?
That could never be. Surely?
Yours in lots of hair,
Mike Scott Thomson
[1] For our American readers, a ‘Cheesy Wotsit’ is a strangely popular cheese flavoured snack which looks like a bright orange owl turd.
[2] Again, for our American readers, “bonce” is British slang for the human head. The original bonce was a large marble that featured in several children’s games of the nineteenth century. The English Dialect Dictionary suggests it’s a version of bounce, since such a marble was also called a bouncer and was “the large earthenware marble used for bouncing or playing with checks or cubes”.
Enjoy that? Help spread the word and hit the Facebook 'Like' button below:
Whiskas: Does My Cat Have Bulimia? – UPDATE
I hadn't written any mischief letters for a while so I thought it was high time I did. When the cat threw up all over the kitchen again this week, I had an idea....
Customer Relations Department
Mars Petcare UK
Registered Office
3D Dundee Road
Slough
Berkshire SL1 4LG
Dear Customer Relations,
Whiskas and Feline Eating Disorders
I have a cat called Nahla (I’d rather have a dog but cats bury their own poo in the garden – usually someone else’s - which is a lot better than picking up smelly poos and putting them in a bin). She’s named after the lioness in the Lion King. She doesn’t look much like a lion, in fact she looks like a tiger that shrank in the wash because she’s small and stripy, but she seems to like the name.
She also likes Whiskas ‘Oh So Meaty’ in Jelly. In fact, she likes Whiskas so much that she gets very stroppy when we give her crunchy cat food which the vet says we have to on account of her gum disease. Her favourite Whiskas is the poultry selection. She doesn’t like the ‘Oh So Fishy’ ones – probably because we live a long way from the sea.
Anyway, I am beginning to get a little worried about Nahla because she keeps being sick after she has eaten her Whiskas. Unfortunately, she seems to prefer to throw up in the house instead of in other people’s gardens. I don’t particularly like the look or smell of Whiskas when it’s fresh from the pouch. When it’s been inside a cat for ten minutes, it’s not nice at all!
I think she is displaying a lot of the classic symptoms of Bulimia.
I have looked up Bulimia on the NHS website and it says that low self esteem could be a major factor. Nahla is much smaller than all the other cats in the neighbourhood and her tummy is a bit ‘saggy’ since she had kittens when she was very young. I suspect that she is being bullied. She is also adopted (she was already over a year old when she came to us) so perhaps she is insecure.
As you are clearly very expert in the area of feline nutrition, I was hoping that you may be able to offer some advice.
Yours hopefully,
Anthony
Full marks to Mars Petcare, and in particular, to Susan Hendy from their Customer Care Team. She was soon back to me with a very helpful reply:
Naturally, I'm obliged to serve another volley now that I know I have someone to play with....
Watch this space.
Andrex: What’s so difficult?
It should be possible to spend a few peaceful moments in the smallest room without getting annoyed.. but, no. Try as I might, I can't get that bloody loo roll to tear along the perforations. I suppose that if it did, that puppy wouldn't be able to run all over the house dragging the stuff all over the place....
Kimberly-Clark Ltd
1 Tower View
Kings Hill
West Malling
Kent
ME19 4HA
Dear Customer Relations,
Andrex Toilet Tissue
What is so difficult about making toilet tissue that tears along the dotted line?
Yours sincerely,
Anthony
Ibuprofen Liquid Capsules: Easy to Swallow? – Update
Oridinally posted in June, this is updated to include a very bland reply from Superdrug which has naturally encouraged me to have a second go:
Customer Relations Department
Superdrug Stores plc
118 Beddington LaneCroydon
Surrey
CR0 4TB
Dear Customer Relations,
Superdrug Ibuprofen 200mg Liquid Capsules
Twenty years ago, a very big horse ran up my back at full gallop.
My wife and I had been riding in the forests of the Morvan National Park in France - and very nice it was too. Nice that is until our mounts were spooked by a snake and we were both thrown out of our saddles. The big problem for me was that I was riding in the front. As a result, milliseconds after the pain of hitting the rocky ground at high speed, my wife’s horse ran straight over me at a velocity Red Rum would have been proud of. Unfortunately, one of its thundering hind hooves struck me squarely on my upper back, just inside my right shoulder blade. After that, the pain of the fall seemed utterly insignificant.
For some time afterwards, my Quasimodo impersonation was flawless. My hump was the size of a small French village and my right arm hung limp and useless at my side. I wouldn’t have been able to stand or lie straight if you had run over me with a steamroller. Gradually though, the pain and the swelling subsided, I eventually resumed an upright stance and life returned to normal.
Nonetheless, to this day, there is an area of damaged tissue in my shoulder – roughly the size of a horses hoof. Once in a while, it seems to flare up for no apparent reason and I develop an acute neuritis, causing excruciating referred pain down my arm and pins and needles in my right hand.
So, to finally get to the point of my letter, this is exactly what happened a few weeks ago.
It was the weekend and I was unable to see my GP straight away so you can imagine my relief when my wife handed me a box of Superdrug 200mg Ibuprofen Liquid Capsules. Just the job I thought. A painkiller and an anti-inflammatory. Perfect. What’s more, they were fast-acting and (best of all) “easy-to-swallow”!
At least that’s what it said on the box.
Easy to swallow? I suspect that it would have been easier to swallow the horse!
I know the capsules aren’t exactly tiny but I have certainly swallowed bigger tablets without difficulty (indeed, the 400mg ibuprofen tablets that I was eventually prescribed were much bigger than your capsules and looked like shocking-pink flying saucers but they slid down my throat like a good oyster).
No, size isn’t the issue, nor, I suspect, is the egg shape of the capsule. It is the gel of which the capsule is made that is the problem. It seems to react with saliva to form a highly efficient adhesive which firmly glues the capsule to the throat, just below the point where you can cough it back up again. No amount of drinking will dislodge the little blighter. The only way to get the capsule down far enough to do the ‘fast-acting’ bit is to eat - without chewing excessively so there are lots of ‘bits’ to dislodge the glued-on capsule. Salted peanuts work very well, I eventually discovered.
This all seemed like an awful lot of trouble to swallow an “easy-to-swallow” capsule. In fact, bearing in mind its shape, texture and general squishiness, it occurred to me that it may actually be a great deal easier to introduce the capsule into the gastro-intestinal tract from completely the opposite end! A quick dab of Vaseline and hey presto!
So before I buy a pair of rubber gloves, I thought I’d ask: Would they be just as effective as a fast-acting, “easy-to-shove-up-your-bum” suppository?
Yours faithfully,
Anthony
A few days later, I received the following standard letter back from Superdrug:
It was time for a second salvo:
8th August 2010 Miss S Berry Customer Relations Department Superdrug Stores plc 118 Beddington LaneCroydon
Surrey
CR0 4TB
Dear Miss Berry,
Thank you for your letter dated 22nd June. It was good of you to address it to me personally. Of course, I would have preferred that you had also taken the trouble write me a personal letter to go with the personal salutation. After all, I had taken the trouble to tell you all about my Quasimodo impersonation and to introduce a note of levity into my otherwise serious complaint.
Your disappointingly standard text informs me that my comments have been passed to your technical and buying departments. I was rather hoping that my letter may have been passed to your R&D department - the thought of your boffins experimenting with Vaseline and rubber gloves was rather entertaining. However, I now realise that this is because you do not in fact manufacture the offending capsules but simply buy them in like all your other products.
Perhaps you would be good enough to let me have the details of the manufacturer in this instance. I am sure that they will be concerned to hear that their capsules adhere so efficiently to the oesophagus. After all, whilst choking to death is probably a very effective method of pain relief in the long run, it is unlikely to be anything like as effective in PR terms.
Who knows, they may even become rather excited at the prospect of developing a highly effective and 'easy-to-insert' anti-inflammatory suppository.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Your etc,
Anthony
Naturally, I will post the reply when it lands.
Spread the Word about DCR
2,079 feed subscribersSite Security
DCR Pages
- About the Author…
- Some Rules, Privacy Policy and Other Dull Stuff
- The EasyJet Chronicles
- IKEA – Tales from the Big Blue Warehouse
- Best Ever Complaint Letters
- Virgin Atlantic: In-Flight Food
- Brittania Hotels: Probably the Worst Hotel in the World
- Always: Have a Happy Period!
- Vodaphone: a Communicational Conundrum
- NTL: Trying to Get Connected
- Lothian & Borders Police: Response Times
- Scary Duck: The Wreck
- AGL Australia: You May Want to Sit Down….
- Old Lady’s Revenge
- The Pubic Hair Encrusted Soap and the Flotation Tank
- Best Ever Silly Letters
- Contact Dear Customer Relations
Latest DCR Posts
- Apple: Let’s Piss Away a Billion Dollars Together
- Nestle: May the Spooge be With You
- Westin Gourmet: Bill’s Beef Beef
- All Quiet on the East Coast Front
- CrossCountry Trains: The 14:07 from Manchester to Hell
- M&S: Steak and Kidney Puddings
- All that Glitters is not Gold
- Glorious Foods – Oodles of Noodles?
- HMRC: The Taxman Does Have a Sense of Humour!
- Vegetarian Society: I Think I Swallowed an Owl!
- A Nasty Case of the Willy Wonkas
- Walkers Crinkles: A Crispy Atrocity
- Old McDonalds
- Goodness Gracious, Great Balls of Fire…
- Innocent Smoothie Turned Me into a Parrot!
- My Dearest EasyJet Idiots….
- Scary Duck Strikes Again: South West Trains
- Pantene: Disappearing Curls
- Focus DIY: The Dandruff-Eating Hobbit and the Pipe
- LIDL – The Wookiee at the Checkout
- Kingston Communications – Incomparable Incompetence
- West Murcia Police : Oppressing the Proletariat
- Dear Santa…
- iTunes – Stop Ignoring Me!!
- East Coast: The Cretin with the Trolley
Links
- 27b/6 Blog David Thorne’s brilliantly funny blog
- Dear Customer Relations on Facebook The DCR Facebook page: Upload your letters or just join in the complaining!
- Dioclese Very very funny blog. Some unparliamentary language
- I Hate EasyJet A site for those of us who think they shouldn’t get away with it
- Of Herbs and Altars The off-duty antics of the band known as Neon Midnight. Contains unparliamentary language
- Scary Duck Not Scary, Not a Duck – Alistair Coleman’s award winning blog
- The Dear Ferrero Blog Blog of the slightly crazy Thomas de Graaff who likes to send very silly letters to product maufacturers
- To Whom It May Concern… Hayden Edwards likes to write silly letters to all sorts of unsuspecting victims…