I’m not an oven mitt—just a douchebag
My Fellow Inebriates,
How embarrassed I was when the Executive Assistant from Best Brands, the company that manufactures the Cuisinart Puppet Mitt with Silicone Grip, contacted me to offer a “care package.” You see, I’d dropped a number of F-bombs in the original complaint letter—mainly because I was in a frantic state of sobriety when I wrote it, beset by a paranoid fixation on the idea that my mother might (having rejected the Puppet Mitt) reach for me as an oven mitt. I don’t know if any of you have ever had a fear like this, MFI, but mine was so extreme that it spawned a letter so nasty that I certainly didn’t expect a response—much less one from Head Office, exuding professionalism at every syllable. Yes indeed, I felt very embarrassed when it popped up in my Gmail.
I did my best to apologize for my letter and pin as much of it on my parents as I could. After all, I need their human dexterity to type (and open bottles, etc.).
And the next day Ms Goldberg sent me a tracking number for the coming swag. I feel like such a douche.