Nature of the Offense
Look at this idiot:
I can't even list all the staggeringly dangerous, flagrantly illegal things he does here, but I'll try. Running red lights, weaving between cars, driving on the sidewalk, driving into oncoming traffic, ignoring a traffic cop, failing to signal, all while wearing headphones and operating a video camera! I put up with moronic organ donors like this every time I get behind the wheel of a car, and I'm sick of it. Since there's clearly no authority these twits answer to, I had to direct my anger to the general masses, in the Craigslist Rants and Raves.
The Letter
Dear granola-munching hippie turds,
I want you all to know that you people make me absolutely furious. You demand "equal rights" on the road, and then refuse to obey "equal laws" or exhibit "equal common courtesy." The worst is when you stage your Critical Mass rides, where you all get together and bring an entire street to an absolute standstill while you joyride slowly enough to exchange high-fives and pass joints. Not that you can't do plenty of damage individually--far from it. Just about every last one of you runs red lights, refuses to signal your turns, and mows down pedestrians like they were score multipliers. From speaking with a few of you, I gather that most of you don't even KNOW the turn signals for bicyclists. Furthermore, you jump up on the sidewalk illegally whenever it suits you and knock little old ladies and strollers into the street without so much as an "on your left."
If it were up to me, I'd have every last one of you off the street and confined to nature trails and reggae concerts where you belong. And don't come at me about the environment, because it ain't enough to make it worth your presence. I'd rather live in a desert world where I can drive without fear of having to scrape one of you out of the grill of my truck than put up with you to save a few carbon points. Maybe you could save energy by using the sun and a magnifying glass to light your pot instead of putting another BIC in a landfill, or by not recharging your iPhone so often. Or just get a job and buy a Prius.
And buy some goddamned deodorant, too.
The Response
Unfortunately, Craigslist rants don't last long in my area, because there are a lot of trolls who flag posts so as not to obscure their flooding the site with clown porn (I'm serious), but one person did get irked enough to write back:
"Dear broken-down over-worked thoroughly-indoctrinated overly-consumptive multi-medication-taking pack-mule-for-the-wealthy,
Sorry it sucks so bad to be you. I do understand some frustration, as some bikers do step over the line, but starting off your post with some ridiculous old-school stereotypical comment having to do with "granola" and "hippies", made me disregard everything else you wrote entirely, and rightly so, because it's sooooooooo obviously sour-grapes from a just-starting-to-realize-they've-been-fucked-over-by-the-system-and-at-that-stage-of-being-angry-and-lashing-out-at-those-who-got-smart-a-long-time-ago whiner. I'm sorry you are so boring and disillusioned sir, but that's what you get for letting the government, mass media, and wealthy merchants, decide what's best for you.
Oh by the way, the people who don't use deodorant, don't use it because they don't stink like you pasty office-dwelling processed food eating zombies do, so keep slathering on that aluminum chlorohydrate that some advertising guy convinced you that you needed because they also convinced you that you smell bad naturally. At a couple of sticks a month for an average of 60 years or so, that's another $4000.00 in their pocket, with nothing to show for it in yours. And don't even think about adding up what you'll spend in cologne over your lifetime because yet another advertising guy convinced you that you stink too bad to get laid!
Write all the rants you want dude, i'd be pissed too, if I were like you!"
Wow-dude-sorry-you're-so-jaded-by-the-capitalist-system!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
Wendy's
Nature of the Offense
You don't need me to tell you about Wendy's. It is what it is, and I won't bother explaining why I think it's the worst of the major fast food joints. This letter was prompted by Wendy's being completely out of chicken, which accounts for probably 50 percent of their menu. Stupid, right? And not even the "oh yeah, I left the oven on before we left for the weekend" flavor of stupid. More like "eh, we're BP. Nobody will be mad about us trashing a continent."
The Letter
Dear Wendy,
Upon returning to Texas from a North Carolina vacation, some friends and I decided to visit your restaurant. Not because we're particularly fond of it, mind you, but because Texas has yet to discover the chubby-inducing wonders of Cook Out and Bojangles. In any case, three of us approached the counter, ordered, and paid. It should be noted that each of us requested at least one item from your fried chicken selection.
No joke here, just thought you might like to see what a real fast food restaurant looks like.
As we waited for our food with all the anticipation of a Jewish child on Christmas Eve who thinks there's an outsider's chance his parents might "git sav'd" before Santa flies over his house, we were approached by your cashier, who evidently was on loan from the Home for Developmentally Disabled Children with Speech Impediments who Love Pushing Buttons. On his third attempt, he finally managed to convey to us that "ain't no chicken." Maybe this would not be a shock if we were stumbling in high at 2 AM because Taco Bell burned down, but this was right at the beginning of the dinner rush!
Now maybe you say "well sir, Wendy's is primarily a burger joint, so the chicken is just a bonus if you can get it," and there may have been a point in time when I would agree with that. However, upon setting foot in your establishment we were immediately bombarded with so many ads for chicken dinners that I half expected Colonel Sanders to ride a cow into the restaurant and write "Eat Mor Chickunz" on the wall in crudely-applied black paint. You should have just closed. But maybe the cashier couldn't manage to put "Cloz'd. Ain't no chicken." on a sign.
Colonel Sanders riding a cow into Wendy's to write graffiti on the walls.
I'm disappointed, Wendy. Dave would have run out back, popped a chicken's head off with one hand, and had it fried on a bun in 10 minutes or less. You can do better.
The Response
In case you aren't noticing a pattern here, I haven't heard from Wendy yet. Whenever I do get one I'll post it, provided my scanner can handle crayon on construction paper.
You don't need me to tell you about Wendy's. It is what it is, and I won't bother explaining why I think it's the worst of the major fast food joints. This letter was prompted by Wendy's being completely out of chicken, which accounts for probably 50 percent of their menu. Stupid, right? And not even the "oh yeah, I left the oven on before we left for the weekend" flavor of stupid. More like "eh, we're BP. Nobody will be mad about us trashing a continent."
The Letter
Dear Wendy,
Upon returning to Texas from a North Carolina vacation, some friends and I decided to visit your restaurant. Not because we're particularly fond of it, mind you, but because Texas has yet to discover the chubby-inducing wonders of Cook Out and Bojangles. In any case, three of us approached the counter, ordered, and paid. It should be noted that each of us requested at least one item from your fried chicken selection.
No joke here, just thought you might like to see what a real fast food restaurant looks like.
As we waited for our food with all the anticipation of a Jewish child on Christmas Eve who thinks there's an outsider's chance his parents might "git sav'd" before Santa flies over his house, we were approached by your cashier, who evidently was on loan from the Home for Developmentally Disabled Children with Speech Impediments who Love Pushing Buttons. On his third attempt, he finally managed to convey to us that "ain't no chicken." Maybe this would not be a shock if we were stumbling in high at 2 AM because Taco Bell burned down, but this was right at the beginning of the dinner rush!
Now maybe you say "well sir, Wendy's is primarily a burger joint, so the chicken is just a bonus if you can get it," and there may have been a point in time when I would agree with that. However, upon setting foot in your establishment we were immediately bombarded with so many ads for chicken dinners that I half expected Colonel Sanders to ride a cow into the restaurant and write "Eat Mor Chickunz" on the wall in crudely-applied black paint. You should have just closed. But maybe the cashier couldn't manage to put "Cloz'd. Ain't no chicken." on a sign.
Colonel Sanders riding a cow into Wendy's to write graffiti on the walls.
I'm disappointed, Wendy. Dave would have run out back, popped a chicken's head off with one hand, and had it fried on a bun in 10 minutes or less. You can do better.
The Response
In case you aren't noticing a pattern here, I haven't heard from Wendy yet. Whenever I do get one I'll post it, provided my scanner can handle crayon on construction paper.
Friday, June 11, 2010
The State of Tennessee
Nature of the Offense
In a recent survey of everyone except the National Association of Trailer Park Residents, Tennessee was ranked the Worst State Ever. It's basically a bunch of mountain-dwelling rednecks who don't do anything except sit around making meth and bitching about how they lost the War of Northern Aggression. There are so many awful things about this toilet of a state that I could never assemble them into a cohesive complaint letter. That is, until I was driving down I-40 and passed this landmark:
Now, it's true that literally every state-owned piece of property in Tennessee is named after one Confederate general or another, but here is a prominently-featured state park named after the asshole who was the first Grand Wizard of the KKK!
The 476th most racist historical figure in Tennessee history
Finally, something that summarizes everything wrong with Tennessee! I sent the following letter to the governor.
The Letter
Dear Gov. Bredesen,
I am writing to express my admiration for Tennessee's continued dedication to its core values, regardless of fickle sentiments expressed in the media and public opinion polls.
I am speaking in particular of the Nathan Bedford Forrest State Park. As a Texas resident, I wasn't aware of the park until today, and I was delighted to see that the Tennessee tradition of overt, state-sponsored racism and violence endures in a time when even states as deeply invested in White Supremacy as South Carolina are removing the symbols of their lily-white heritage.
As someone who was refused service at a Tennessee ice cream parlor due to my skin color in 2002, I can safely say that the state's position on race relations has successfully permeated to the general public. Congratulations, and keep up the good work!
The Response
It seems that Governor Bredesen is too busy writing a speech for the grand opening of the James Earl Ray State History Museum to respond to my letters.
"Yeah, I'm a huge Nashville Predators fan, but for some reason I just can't get into the Memphis Grizzlies."
I don't think I can just let this go, Phil. Expect to hear from me again.
In a recent survey of everyone except the National Association of Trailer Park Residents, Tennessee was ranked the Worst State Ever. It's basically a bunch of mountain-dwelling rednecks who don't do anything except sit around making meth and bitching about how they lost the War of Northern Aggression. There are so many awful things about this toilet of a state that I could never assemble them into a cohesive complaint letter. That is, until I was driving down I-40 and passed this landmark:
Now, it's true that literally every state-owned piece of property in Tennessee is named after one Confederate general or another, but here is a prominently-featured state park named after the asshole who was the first Grand Wizard of the KKK!
The 476th most racist historical figure in Tennessee history
Finally, something that summarizes everything wrong with Tennessee! I sent the following letter to the governor.
The Letter
Dear Gov. Bredesen,
I am writing to express my admiration for Tennessee's continued dedication to its core values, regardless of fickle sentiments expressed in the media and public opinion polls.
I am speaking in particular of the Nathan Bedford Forrest State Park. As a Texas resident, I wasn't aware of the park until today, and I was delighted to see that the Tennessee tradition of overt, state-sponsored racism and violence endures in a time when even states as deeply invested in White Supremacy as South Carolina are removing the symbols of their lily-white heritage.
As someone who was refused service at a Tennessee ice cream parlor due to my skin color in 2002, I can safely say that the state's position on race relations has successfully permeated to the general public. Congratulations, and keep up the good work!
The Response
It seems that Governor Bredesen is too busy writing a speech for the grand opening of the James Earl Ray State History Museum to respond to my letters.
"Yeah, I'm a huge Nashville Predators fan, but for some reason I just can't get into the Memphis Grizzlies."
I don't think I can just let this go, Phil. Expect to hear from me again.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Oh's Cereal
Nature of the Offense
As you may have gathered from my second letter to HEB, Oh's Cereal has really done nothing wrong. The sad truth, though, is that you probably never even heard of Oh's before you came to this site. That's because every delicious bag of Oh's in the universe comes wrapped in this package:
I mean, really. The marketing team at Quaker Oats might as well stuff them in a plain brown box, porno-style. I sent them the following suggestion for improvement.
The Letter
Hello Quaker,
My friends and I are all huge fans of your Honey Graham Oh's cereal. When I say we're huge fans, I mean we'd rather meet the person who created that awe-inspiring cereal than meet Scarlett Johansson in her bathtub. Have you examined the possibility that Oh's might cure cancer? I would look into that.
Anyways, we were all wondering why people keep eating reprocessed garbage like Fruit Loops and bananas for breakfast, and then look at us like we're from Mars when we high-five the latest person to come back from the grocery store with a new box of Oh's. Then we realized the problem. It's the box. I did a little research, and as far as I can tell you have used the same box for Oh's since at least the 80's. Focus groups have repeatedly demonstrated that if God could go back in time and perform an abortion on the 70's, the 80's would never have happened. So you should probably switch that up.
With that in mind, we humbly offer the following suggestion for some new packaging (attached). Don't worry about intellectual property or any of that, we consider it a love offering. We hope it does wonderful things for the sales numbers of Oh's cereal.
Tell me you wouldn't buy this cereal.
The Response
None. This one surprised me, as I was expecting an offer letter to become the new Vice President of Cereal Marketing for Quaker. Maybe they want to keep Oh's a secret in order to preserve the profits of the Chiquita Banana Company.
As you may have gathered from my second letter to HEB, Oh's Cereal has really done nothing wrong. The sad truth, though, is that you probably never even heard of Oh's before you came to this site. That's because every delicious bag of Oh's in the universe comes wrapped in this package:
I mean, really. The marketing team at Quaker Oats might as well stuff them in a plain brown box, porno-style. I sent them the following suggestion for improvement.
The Letter
Hello Quaker,
My friends and I are all huge fans of your Honey Graham Oh's cereal. When I say we're huge fans, I mean we'd rather meet the person who created that awe-inspiring cereal than meet Scarlett Johansson in her bathtub. Have you examined the possibility that Oh's might cure cancer? I would look into that.
Anyways, we were all wondering why people keep eating reprocessed garbage like Fruit Loops and bananas for breakfast, and then look at us like we're from Mars when we high-five the latest person to come back from the grocery store with a new box of Oh's. Then we realized the problem. It's the box. I did a little research, and as far as I can tell you have used the same box for Oh's since at least the 80's. Focus groups have repeatedly demonstrated that if God could go back in time and perform an abortion on the 70's, the 80's would never have happened. So you should probably switch that up.
With that in mind, we humbly offer the following suggestion for some new packaging (attached). Don't worry about intellectual property or any of that, we consider it a love offering. We hope it does wonderful things for the sales numbers of Oh's cereal.
Tell me you wouldn't buy this cereal.
The Response
None. This one surprised me, as I was expecting an offer letter to become the new Vice President of Cereal Marketing for Quaker. Maybe they want to keep Oh's a secret in order to preserve the profits of the Chiquita Banana Company.
Whataburger
Nature of the Offense
This is just a quickie I fired off to Whataburger (which is nasty), who closed down the only Taco Bell (which is awesome) within 30 minutes of my house to put up another location, making it like the seventh Whataburger within spitting distance of my home/office.
Whataburger. Awful.
The Letter
WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU???
Why must you put a location on 28th and Guadalupe in Austin, shutting down the only Taco Bell for miles in the process? Within 7 doors of that location there is already a Jack in the Box and a Burger King! We have enough burgers! Leave us alone with our enchiritos. Your burgers taste like what I scrape out of the bottom of my grill after a cookout anyway.
Get bent.
The Response
None. It has been suggested that I am less likely to receive correspondence from these companies when I sign my letters with "get bent." It is my opinion that this theory needs more empirical evidence.
This is just a quickie I fired off to Whataburger (which is nasty), who closed down the only Taco Bell (which is awesome) within 30 minutes of my house to put up another location, making it like the seventh Whataburger within spitting distance of my home/office.
Whataburger. Awful.
The Letter
WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU???
Why must you put a location on 28th and Guadalupe in Austin, shutting down the only Taco Bell for miles in the process? Within 7 doors of that location there is already a Jack in the Box and a Burger King! We have enough burgers! Leave us alone with our enchiritos. Your burgers taste like what I scrape out of the bottom of my grill after a cookout anyway.
Get bent.
The Response
None. It has been suggested that I am less likely to receive correspondence from these companies when I sign my letters with "get bent." It is my opinion that this theory needs more empirical evidence.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
HEB, Part II
Nature of the Offense
Grandma waited until 6:15 AM to pick up her beloved Choco Nuggs Cereal. Bad move.
The Letter
Dear HEB,
They say there are men of small pleasures, and men of habit. I happen to fall into both of those categories. That means there are a few small things that, when I have them, make my life generally pleasant and enjoyable, but they have to be just the right things. I am writing because, somehow, your store sells many of these things, but I would never know, because they are NEVER in stock. My bi- or tri-weekly HEB
shopping experience has become an exercise in searching fruitlessly (or just with whatever fruit you have on sale in those rotting crates in the parking lot) for items like juice, salsa, cereal, and crackers.
Just for the record, the specific items I have in mind that, when I find them on your shelves, is somewhat akin to discovering the Higgs boson, are Arriba hot salsa, O's cereal, Chicken in a Biskit crackers, honey wheat bread, and grapefruit juice. The juice I'm not specific about, as long as it's not that horrible calcium-enriched stuff you sell that tastes like children's fluoride.
Tastes like HEB Grapefruit juice...
The pathetic thing is that I let you get my hopes up. Every time. I come bounding down the aisles like a kid on Christmas morning. Well, a kid who knows he's doing no better than a new pair of shoelaces, anyway. And every time there's a small, deep hole on the shelf where my desired product should be. I end up settling for some depressing alternative, like your dry heave-inducing Raspberry Chipotle crackers. I've written you about those things before; did you think it would help to put some
sexy new picture on the box? Of course you didn't--you just did that to rub it in my face.
The cereal is the worst. As you may or may not be aware, O's happen to be the most wonderful, smile-bringing breakfast cereal in the universe. Maybe the terrorists have realized this, and you've cut some backdoor deal to sell them 90 percent of your supply at a huge markup. Worse, I've lived in Texas for two years, and I have confirmed with your more conscious employees that O's cereal has never been given a designated slot on your cereal aisle (at least not at the 41st street location).
So every week, I go down the aisle on tiptoes, searching the overflow section for my beloved O's, but it seems too many others have learned this secret. It's never there.
Can you tell which one the terrorists want most? Me neither.
They say if you can't say anything nice you shouldn't say anything, so I suppose I should say something nice about your store. Well...it's nice that you have weighty shopping carts. That way, when I slip in the 3-foot area of standing water in your produce section like I did last night, I can catch myself on the cart. So thank you for not buying the cheap plastic carts like Target. That might have spelled the end of me.
In short, HEB, I hate you. But I hate you like a trailer park housewife hates her abusive husband. Sure, it's awful every time he comes home; he's drunker than last time, and he always gives you a fresh shiner (there's something else you have in common--there's always plenty of Shiner). But you keep coming back because, let's face it, you know you can't do any better, and he knows it too. I just hope my abused-spouse mentality doesn't rub off on my children and begin the cycle anew...
He knows what HEB is doing to mommy inside.
The Response
"Hello and thank you for contacting us at our H-E-B Web Site. We always appreciate
hearing from our Friends and Customers.
One of our goals is to maintain the safe, clean and pleasant shopping environment every
Customer expects and deserves. We are always disappointed if we learn a store is not
meeting these standards. Your Store Director will review your comments and do
everything possible to ensure we are maintaining our store at the high standards we
hold ourselves to. We have also forwarded your comments to our Manager of Food Safety
for his immediate investigation. Thanks for letting us know.
Providing Customers with the products they want when they want them has always been
important to us. Sometimes demand exceeds our expectations, creating out of stocks.
When this occurs, it usually takes one to three days for the store to be back in stock.
When a distribution problem occurs at the manufacturer level, the delay may be longer.
I apologize for your inconvenience. You can be assured that we are working to keep "out
of stocks" to a minimum and replenish the stock as quickly as possible when they occur.
I appreciate the time you have taken in detailing your concerns with our store. I will
formally document your comments, and ensure they are directed to the appropriate
members of Store and Regional Management for their review and action. Our goal is to
provide our Customers with excellent service and a superior shopping experience. We
are always disappointed to learn we have let down a valued Customer. However, we
cannot improve without valuable feedback like you have shared with us. I know our Store
Team will work hard to ensure your future visits to our store meet your expectations.
Thanks again and please accept my personal apology for any inconvenience you have
experienced.
H-E-B is proud to serve you as our Customer and we will look forward to all future
opportunities we may have to serve you. We genuinely value your comments and your
business. As we strive to deliver superior Customer Service, we encourage you to
continue letting us know how we can serve you better.
Sincerely,
Suzanne
Senior Customer Relations Specialist
H-E-B Grocery Company
1-800-432-3113"
Amazingly, this time I got more than smoke blown up my ass. The next day,
HEB had a spot on the shelf for Oh's, and it has been in stock ever since.
You are all welcome.
As I mentioned in the previous post, one of my frustrations with HEB is that any time you really want a product, they are almost sure to be out of stock. This is partially due to the fact that so many people shop there; an employee actually told a friend of mine that the best time to find an item is between 3 and 6 AM, before the masses pick it all clean. Of course, it doesn't help that most of their employees are too busy checking their cell phones and wiping the drool off their jaws to bother checking their stock.
Grandma waited until 6:15 AM to pick up her beloved Choco Nuggs Cereal. Bad move.
The Letter
Dear HEB,
They say there are men of small pleasures, and men of habit. I happen to fall into both of those categories. That means there are a few small things that, when I have them, make my life generally pleasant and enjoyable, but they have to be just the right things. I am writing because, somehow, your store sells many of these things, but I would never know, because they are NEVER in stock. My bi- or tri-weekly HEB
shopping experience has become an exercise in searching fruitlessly (or just with whatever fruit you have on sale in those rotting crates in the parking lot) for items like juice, salsa, cereal, and crackers.
Just for the record, the specific items I have in mind that, when I find them on your shelves, is somewhat akin to discovering the Higgs boson, are Arriba hot salsa, O's cereal, Chicken in a Biskit crackers, honey wheat bread, and grapefruit juice. The juice I'm not specific about, as long as it's not that horrible calcium-enriched stuff you sell that tastes like children's fluoride.
Tastes like HEB Grapefruit juice...
The pathetic thing is that I let you get my hopes up. Every time. I come bounding down the aisles like a kid on Christmas morning. Well, a kid who knows he's doing no better than a new pair of shoelaces, anyway. And every time there's a small, deep hole on the shelf where my desired product should be. I end up settling for some depressing alternative, like your dry heave-inducing Raspberry Chipotle crackers. I've written you about those things before; did you think it would help to put some
sexy new picture on the box? Of course you didn't--you just did that to rub it in my face.
The cereal is the worst. As you may or may not be aware, O's happen to be the most wonderful, smile-bringing breakfast cereal in the universe. Maybe the terrorists have realized this, and you've cut some backdoor deal to sell them 90 percent of your supply at a huge markup. Worse, I've lived in Texas for two years, and I have confirmed with your more conscious employees that O's cereal has never been given a designated slot on your cereal aisle (at least not at the 41st street location).
So every week, I go down the aisle on tiptoes, searching the overflow section for my beloved O's, but it seems too many others have learned this secret. It's never there.
 |  |
 |  |
Can you tell which one the terrorists want most? Me neither.
They say if you can't say anything nice you shouldn't say anything, so I suppose I should say something nice about your store. Well...it's nice that you have weighty shopping carts. That way, when I slip in the 3-foot area of standing water in your produce section like I did last night, I can catch myself on the cart. So thank you for not buying the cheap plastic carts like Target. That might have spelled the end of me.
In short, HEB, I hate you. But I hate you like a trailer park housewife hates her abusive husband. Sure, it's awful every time he comes home; he's drunker than last time, and he always gives you a fresh shiner (there's something else you have in common--there's always plenty of Shiner). But you keep coming back because, let's face it, you know you can't do any better, and he knows it too. I just hope my abused-spouse mentality doesn't rub off on my children and begin the cycle anew...
He knows what HEB is doing to mommy inside.
The Response
"Hello and thank you for contacting us at our H-E-B Web Site. We always appreciate
hearing from our Friends and Customers.
One of our goals is to maintain the safe, clean and pleasant shopping environment every
Customer expects and deserves. We are always disappointed if we learn a store is not
meeting these standards. Your Store Director will review your comments and do
everything possible to ensure we are maintaining our store at the high standards we
hold ourselves to. We have also forwarded your comments to our Manager of Food Safety
for his immediate investigation. Thanks for letting us know.
Providing Customers with the products they want when they want them has always been
important to us. Sometimes demand exceeds our expectations, creating out of stocks.
When this occurs, it usually takes one to three days for the store to be back in stock.
When a distribution problem occurs at the manufacturer level, the delay may be longer.
I apologize for your inconvenience. You can be assured that we are working to keep "out
of stocks" to a minimum and replenish the stock as quickly as possible when they occur.
I appreciate the time you have taken in detailing your concerns with our store. I will
formally document your comments, and ensure they are directed to the appropriate
members of Store and Regional Management for their review and action. Our goal is to
provide our Customers with excellent service and a superior shopping experience. We
are always disappointed to learn we have let down a valued Customer. However, we
cannot improve without valuable feedback like you have shared with us. I know our Store
Team will work hard to ensure your future visits to our store meet your expectations.
Thanks again and please accept my personal apology for any inconvenience you have
experienced.
H-E-B is proud to serve you as our Customer and we will look forward to all future
opportunities we may have to serve you. We genuinely value your comments and your
business. As we strive to deliver superior Customer Service, we encourage you to
continue letting us know how we can serve you better.
Sincerely,
Suzanne
Senior Customer Relations Specialist
H-E-B Grocery Company
1-800-432-3113"
Amazingly, this time I got more than smoke blown up my ass. The next day,
HEB had a spot on the shelf for Oh's, and it has been in stock ever since.
You are all welcome.
HEB, Part I
Nature of the Offense
Cathy
Customer Relations Specialist
H-E-B Grocery Company"
As anyone in Texas knows, HEB is the soul-sucking grocery juggernaut that owns everyone in the southwest like it's the Company Store.
Here lies the origin of my discontent
Everything about this store is awful. The parking lot is like a demilitarized zone, the merchandise is always out of stock, and walking down an aisle gives you first-hand experience on what it's like to be anally raped by a shopping cart. None of this warranted a letter from me by itself, because tens of thousands of people (at least) across Texas put up with it every day because it's still better than shopping with the unwashed hippies at Whole Foods. What did force my hand, though, was this:
Satan's cracker. So offensive this is the best picture of it allowed to exist.
This is one of HEB's discount food products, and it is quite possibly the worst edible thing ever created. It goes beyond "bad food" and into "inhumane replacement for ipecac syrup." Enough talk, let's get to my righteous indignation.
The Letter
To whom it may concern,
I was at a party over the weekend, and our host served a bowl of your HEB brand crackers, specifically the raspberry-chipotle flavored wheat crackers. I thought you should be aware that these crackers may very well be the most offensive combination of flavors to ever assault my olfactory senses. They were so bad, in fact, we incorporated them into a card game we were playing. Very basically, any time a player used one of a set of high-value cards, he was forced to consume a raspberry-chipotle cracker as a penalty. Never before have I seen grown men reduced to tears over a finger food. I saw players knowingly sabotage their chances of winning simply to avoid having to eat another of those putrid crackers. I myself nearly vomited twice, and was unable to eat for a period of roughly 14 hours after the end of the game. These crackers are a menace to public health, and I would recommend an immediate recall.
The Response
"Dear Mrs. Anthony:
Hello and thank you for contacting us at our H-E-B Web Site. We always
appreciate hearing from our Friends and Customers.
It disappoints us to learn that you were not satisfied with the H-E-B
Raspberry-Chipotle flavored wheat crackers you had at your friend's
party. We offer a money back guarantee on our H E B and Hill Country
Fare Brands. We always appreciate retrieving any unused portions for
product evaluation. This helps us insure that we meet the high quality
standards set for these products. If you are ever dissatisfied with one
of our products in the future, please return the unused portion for a
full refund.
Because we are always interested in our Customers' concerns, we are
sharing your comments with our Own Brand Development Team for their
information and consideration.
H-E-B is proud to serve you as our Customer and we will look forward to
all future opportunities we may have to serve you. We genuinely value
your comments and your business. As we strive to deliver superior
Customer Service, we encourage you to continue letting us know how we
can serve you better.
Cathy
Customer Relations Specialist
H-E-B Grocery Company"
I'm not at all sure why they called me Mrs. Anthony, aside from the fact that when you're essentially telling someone, "choose your favorite two-word phrase, and apply it," it doesn't matter what you call them. We're not done, HEB. Not by a long shot.
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