At some point in the past two years I have become an angry, letter writing, cranky old woman. It started when Whole Foods sold me some foul tuna. Jparks and I had planned a meal around this tuna and when we opened the pack, I wanted to vomit. It smelled horrible, beyond fishy, and we decided that even if we covered it in some kind of sauce, there was no way we could eat it. So we threw away $15 worth of tuna and I was not happy about it. We probably had cereal for dinner that night because once I'm home, there is no leaving the house again.
The next day I wrote a letter to the manager of my local Whole Foods and felt much better. Letter writing was awesome! I got to complain, without actually having to go to the store, ask for the manager, wait for him to drag his ass up front, explain the situation, explain it again when he just stares at me blankly, and then accept his weak apology while being able to see just how much he doesn't care about me and my tuna issues. Viva la letter writing!
I had been happy in my letter writing ways up until this morning. See, our Christmas tree is officially dead. I can no longer deny it, nor can I do anything to save it, that sucker is DEAD. And I am pissed. I mean, Christmas trees usually last forever. Okay, maybe not forever, but longer than two weeks. I immediatly wanted to write a letter complaining to Lowe's, but I also want a new tree. And while a letter might yield a gift card from them at some point down the road, I need that new tree now. So I called the store this morning and then swallowed some broken glass bits just for comparative purposes. In the end I decided that the glass swallowing was the more pleasant experience.
I asked to speak to a manager and I'm fairly certain I was put through to a bored employee pretending to be a manager. I told her my tree had died, that I thought it was unusual, and asked if anyone else has complained about trees purchased from them. She responded with "Well, you have to water it." "Yeah I understand that, which is why I water it every morning." "Well, I don't know what to tell you."
She then offered to transfer me to the gardening center because "they might have more information for you regarding tree care" but I hung up before the transfer went through. The last thing I need is to be told to water the tree again. Unfortunately the phone call left me mad enough to still want to write a letter and to publicly shame Lowe's with a blog post.
Shame on you Lowe's! You suck! Now I have to go buy another tree (which, yes I will be doing this weekend because I must have a tree) which will just make me bitter and angry, because I have already bought and paid for one tree this year. (For the record, the second tree will not come from Lowe's).
Lowe's, I'm giving you the virtual stink eye. You should expect my letter shortly.