Dear

Dear

Status: Finished

Genre: Young Adult

Houses:

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Young Adult

Houses:

Summary

A lonely school teacher, vents to the Ultimate Vending Company, as what seems to be a simple customer service issue, turns out to be much more.
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Summary

A lonely school teacher, vents to the Ultimate Vending Company, as what seems to be a simple customer service issue, turns out to be much more.

Content

Submitted: May 03, 2017

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Content

Submitted: May 03, 2017

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Dear Ultimate Vending Company,

 

This letter is to regard the poor customer service I received when I used your vending machine, #102, at the entrance to Grownbay Mall. I put 6 quarters in the machine and proceeded to press “B4”, which should've given me Sour Skittles. Unfortunately, it did not. I was really upset because I was really hungry and also I caught my wife cheating 20 minutes before. She was laying in bed with another man, when I came home early from work. I’m not saying it's your fault and I’m not trying to dramatize my claim. I just want to be thorough.

 

Let me start from the beginning: I’m an English teacher. I wake up every day at 5 in the morning, run, shower, shave. It’s good to get an early start, especially because I don’t drive. Not that driving isn’t important to me, it’s just I don’t own a car. By the time I’m done. It’s usually around 6. By that time, my wife would be up and we’d eat breakfast together. She’s also a teacher, but she helps special needs students, which I think in hindsight, makes her a good person. She’ll have a plate of eggs and sausage ready for me, with a glass of orange juice with no pulp. We’ll talk for a bit, until she gives me a kiss goodbye at 6:30. From there, I’ll take the #14 bus to the train station on La Cadena and Valley Boulevard. The 1-15 out of Grownbay would usually come at 7:05, and it’s usually the same crowd everyday. A guy named Dave sits next to me, he runs a bodyshop on the outskirts of town. The first time we talked, he asked me what I did and I told him I’m a therapist. I don’t know why. It just popped into my head. I try my best not to talk to him because I can’t stand his coffee breath. I think he knew.

 

After, the train would stop on Mill St. and 3rd, and I would walk 20 minutes to Grownbay High School which starts at 8. I’ll usually carry my briefcase to work. I never thought I’ll be one of those people, because it reminds me of all the times I would carry a lunchbox to school. Do they still make those?

 

My wife’s father works across from me, in the more newer and cleaner buildings of the high school. He’s the head of the English department and teaches AP Literature. He started training me when I was 20. I hate that word. Dogs get trained. Josef Davis, my father in law. J-O-S-E-F, Josef. I know Josef is spelled with a PH at the end, but it still makes me laugh in my head.

 

I met Valerie, my wife, at a New Year's Eve party years ago. Her friend told me that she thought I was cute. I walked up to her and we talked for awhile. Not so long after, we made love all night. After, we laid in bed, until the sun came up. We made it official not so long after. I don’t think her dad ever liked me much because I didn’t come from a high standing family like they did. Also, one day after I dropped her off at her doorstep, he came out of the side gate to their old Victorian house, brandishing a 12 gauge and told me, “you know, I really don’t like you Steven.” I also puked in his 1964 Ford Mustang on our first Thanksgiving together.

 

We married four years ago. Our wedding was pretty fun. We danced to “September” by Earth Wind & Fire. That song was also playing in my house when I saw her laying in bed with another guy. Valerie was a nice girl, a good person. She snorted when she laughed, tilted her mouth when she smiled and cried every time we watched Titanic. Other than that, I don’t think I know who she really was. She always told me I never paid attention.

 

Maybe you’ll find this information irrelevant in your deliberation of my refund. But I think you deserve the whole story.

 

Sincerely,


Erick F. Inzunza


© Copyright 2017 Erick Inzunza. All rights reserved.

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