To Whom it may concern,
Hi and how are you? Glad to know you are fine and all that. No, I’m not very fine, thank you. I am writing in aggravation over a particular matter.
Hi and how are you? Glad to know you are fine and all that. No, I’m not very fine, thank you. I am writing in aggravation over a particular matter.
It pertains to my handphone, which is a Motorola L6. As a company who is drawing immense profits above margin, I’m sure you’d like to know how one of your many many lucrative products have been faring in the possession of discerning customers like me, who put their connections to the World ‘in the line’, so to speak, on the Monkey-King-try-to-fly-over-Buddha’s-Middle-Finger-in-Her-Palm-But-Failed-miserably-Kinda-Hands for your safe-keeping.
My complaint is this: Why the smelly-egg hell did you make your handphones so skinny? I’d spent a full 60 seconds searching desperately through my 50-liter rucksack in order to stop that incessant ringing (yes, why your phone so loud also?). It was that or face the wrath of all the MRT morning crowds trying to catching their additional winks sitting and standing.
Yes, the embarrassment I had to go through under their hot bloodshot stares when this hum-sap lao han actually poked me, POKED me on my shoulder, just as I was stamping down raising panic, just as my pencil box bursts its seams and all its innards as I whipped it out to dig around for the phantom ringing phone in said bag, just as it rained pencils, erasers and staplers onto a small growing island of restaurant napkins, umbrellas, my windbreaker, used tissue balls and loose paper around myself.
When I faced him, hair all ragged holding onto a torn pencil bag, he dared to reach around and poke me again, POKED me! On my BUTT! The audacity! The fact that he was pointing out the L6 has been nestling in my back pocket all along did not change the fact that I had been publicly harassed, and had not the L6 been layered between my luscious butt and his pudgy fingers, my skin would have been dented. DENTED and MOLESTED by his hairy paws.
…..wait a minute….. *pause*
OK, you win. So the L6 stopped that hum-sap lao han, So? I’m sure if L6 had been as thick as Nokia, I’d be SAFER from his evil pointer. For one thing, it would have been further.
Yes, by twice the distance.
So the original argument still stands that your phone is too fricking thin. I should know because before that MRT fiasco, I’d been smoozing in front of the mirror pretending to be Liz Tyler with all her gold parts, I mean, Cards. I’d popped L6 into my back pocket (and sexily drew it back out and slowly pushed it in again and…..) and promptly forgotten about it.
It was so skinny, I didn’t feel the stretch of my too-tight jeans.
If it was thicker, that growing island of my belongings on the MRT floor will have served a genuine purpose.
Another Thing! And this should wake up your idea even more! Your emaciated design of L6 made me drop it from 6 storeys high! SIX!
The fricking (ran out of eggs) garden was so fricking BIG downstairs but the phone crashed onto the tinny concrete gutter running along one side anyways. I am fairly sure it was because my L6 ‘fluttered’ on the way down. I blame it entirely on its aerodynamic design and light weight. Surely the wind caught it and whisked it right over the dirty drain. Your fault!
It split into THREE, man! Split into THREE!!! It bounced three times, THREE! First bounce and I saw, from way up, the back cover fell from the main body, 2nd bounce and the battery fell off, 3rd bounce and my swaroski phone accessory smashed. Smashed to BITS!
My heart still bleeds at the sodding memory...
I tell you, I’ve never ran down 6 storeys so sodding fast before. Never have I suffered a near-cardiac experience in the same series of leaps as each bounce my phone made before. In fact, never have I waded through a gutter trying to fish out phone pieces before.
And Why, oh WHY did the phone have to suffer that kamikaze drop in the first place? Eh? Eh?
Because! Of! YOU!
Yes, you.
I’ll tell you why.
I walked through a rail-less parapet with my magazine held on its spine.
You made it (L6 lah!) so skinny, I used it as a bookmark.
It was so skinny, it didn’t even dent my CLEO magazine.
So I thought it was in my back pocket this time.
Hence I swung my mag without a care.
There.
The fact that I was able to revive my phone is not a consolation. That its metal-enforced casing hardly got scratched was not the issue, it could be titanium-enforced for all I care. That the scratchproof big screen remained flawlessly smooth was not the point.
The point is:
If it was thicker and uglier, I’ll not have been so affected as to write this complaint letter.
But since it was frankly the most Chio-est piece of metal-talking-implement I've ever own for a miserly $8 and a 2 year bondage, if not in my entire Life, I almost required an MC just to recover from shock.
Incidentally, if you want my slightly-ruched-but-still-mint-conditoned phone as a genuine crash-test-dummy proof of durability and moi as spokeswoman for any advertising purpose, I shall have to warn you I don’t come cheap.
Oh yes, my warranty is 20 days late, you’d better approve it.
Yours in aggravation,
Ang KuKueh
