Complaint letters

Last week I purchased a four-pack of Charmin Ultra Soft.

Yeah, I'm all for the environment. I try to do my part. But if Laurie David can eat up fossil fuel flying around in a private jet, then I can have my Ultra Soft toilet paper.

However, I was none too pleased to find upon getting home, that I merely had regular Charmin. The packaging said Ultra Soft. But it was just regular Charmin. Which is still pretty soft. But not what I paid extra for.

As a consumer, I was fairly miffed. After all, it's not the sort of thing you have the time or the inclination to exchange. If you're buying toilet paper, it's a safe bet that you need it fairly soon. The odds of you returning it are pretty low. And I can only imagine the looks on the faces of the cashiers at my local market as I stand there swearing that I paid for Ultra Soft, but only got Soft.

However, as a writer, it's my chance to shine. You don't want to mess with a writer. Because we will sit down and write a complaint letter. And, for those of us still struggling in the profession, it's often our only chance to get read. Oh, I will write a complaint letter.

I've written complaint letters about everything from the service on the "A" Train to the discontinuation of the Kraft Spaghetti dinner---all of which I was plenty peeved about. And almost 100% of the time, I get a response. That's about fifty percent higher than my shot at getting a response from query letters about my novel. You bet I'm writing a complaint.

Not only that, but I've been told that I argue my points extremely well. So well, in fact, that I've often been asked to intervene on the behalf of fellow employees who feel they've been treated unfairly. Because, in essense, being a good writer is like being a good lawyer. You need to get the attention of the jury, astound them with your mastery of the subject, take them into a world where they can suspend their disbelief, and totally bring them over to your side. The best writers and the best lawyers do this on a daily basis.

Complaint letters help to sharpen the skills.

A few weeks ago, I had an issue with a new manager in our restaurant. I won't go into details, but suffice it to say, she was mean. Really mean. However, being a union establishment, I didn't have to take this. I could write a complaint letter. Something, I've been told, that most employees don't bother to do. However, what I did learn was that in a corporate environment, an actual letter makes a huge difference in how a company proceeds with disciplinary action.

Having a heart to heart with your supervisor about a problem is always a good choice. And I did that. And was promised action. But when a certain person's behaviour doesn't change...well, then you get my letter. And a letter is the last thing a company or manager wants. Because now it's on paper. There's a document. A paper trail. And they HAVE to do something. Whether they want to or not. In this case, they wanted to. Why? Because I was right. This woman was nasty. She even talked about her fellow managers behind their backs. Everyone wanted her gone. But I wrote a complaint letter. Within two weeks she was gone.

I can't take the credit entirely. After all, I was not the only one experiencing her vitrol. But the manager definitely gave a little laugh when I handed him my complaint letter.

"Wow. Six pages?"

"Yup. Don't mess with a writer."

And bye-bye Melissa.

My love of complaint letters first began many years ago. I've always had a problem with new packaging. When you're going down the aisle of your local grocery store looking for your usual product and suddenly can't find it---Where is it? I don't see it anywhere. And you look and you look and suddenly you see it. But it's different. You almost didn't recognize it. Why? Because there's new packaging.

When Quaker Oats started putting their oats into a container with a plastic lid instead of the cardboard lid with the string---I just about had a fit. Is it the same? Is it different? Because if they changed the packaging, who knows what they changed about the product?

Nestle Quick. Remember?---it used to come in a cardboard container with a metal lid that you had to use a spoon to pry open. Now it's a plastic container.

And Campbell's soup? When did they feel the need to put pictures of their soup on the labels? I don't like it. I don't like it at all.

Because sometimes they DO change the product. Twinings Tea? Hello. The Earl Grey has completely changed since they switched to different packaging. And I don't like the tea quite so much. It's weak. It is. I'll say it out loud. I don't care. The Twinings Corporation is skimping on tea leaves in their Earl Grey tea. It's a fact. And I'm not the only one who thinks so. There's a whole blog some guy wrote devoted to the fact that Twinings Tea is cheating consumers out of tea leaves. It's a crime. And I have a six page letter to prove it.

Frankly, it's all about change. I like continuity. I don't like change. Change is generally arbitrary and pointless.

Why does the Contadina Tomato Paste Company feel the need to continually update the hair and clothes on the lady on the Contadina Tomato Paste Can? Is this all they have to do in their boardroom meetings? It's outrageous. I've been purchasing Contadina Tomato Paste for years. Like my mother. And my grandmother before her. I do not need a modern-looking lady on the label of my Contadina Tomato Paste Can. And---by the way---label? They used to print the label directly onto the can. What happened there? I really would like to know.

This might seems ridiculous to some of you. But I don't see it as any more ridiculous than the change itself. I can imagine no meeting more ridiculous than a bunch of guys in suits sitting around a big table discussing what sort of hairstyle and apron the lady on the Contadina Tomato Paste can should have. It's tomato sauce. It's been around for a long, long time. Nobody's going to start or stop buying it because she has a few more curls.

So tonight, I sat down to compose my letter to the Charmin Toilet Paper Company. It's not quite six pages; but I think I made my point. There's a letter, photos, even a sampling of the two different types of toilet paper to prove that there is a discerible difference in quality. If they're trying to pawn off the Soft as Ultra Soft---they've got another thing coming.

However, if it was simply a manufacturing malfunction---then I think they should be aware of the problem. I never really wanted to be a whistle-blower---but somebody's got to speak up.

Do I get anything from these complaint letters? No. Nothing. I've never received any product in the mail.

Do I get a reply? Generally, yes. There are people employed by corporations to do just this job. And I'm at least moderately sane. I can imagine some of the kooks these people have to deal with. Although I'm still upset by the lack of response regarding possibly the greatest complaint letter I ever sent---to The History Channel. Oh, they were war-mongering with their Saddam Hussein documentaries a few years ago and everybody knows it.

Does my letter get read? YES. And that's the beauty of it all. Even if you're not a writer. There's someone at Nestle or General Mills or wherever who will listen to you. Elected officials don't pay as much attention to civilian complaints as Kraft Foods or the NYC Transit Authority.

Do I get satisfaction? No. By the time you have a complaint, the companies have already decided upon their course of action. It's rare that consumer evolution is reversed. But then, remember New Coke?

Leo Buscaglia once said: "The greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing."

Sure, I don't think he was talking about toilet paper. But if you can't even go out on the limb for toilet paper, what the hell are you doing in that tree?