midnight confessions
I have a confession: I enjoy hanging up on telemarketers, harassing harassers, and telling misguided collectors that I’m not Mustafa Abbas el Said, and strongly suggesting they just ark off. So when Columbia House DVD club began sending invoices a few years back, I was both annoyed and gleeful. This allowed me a written channel for my aggression, one where I could silently challenge them to blink first and not have to face them when I did.
An office mate donned me as perfectly certifiable when I shared this correspondence with her in real time. That’s when I knew I had gone the right amount of too far. I’ve pasted three of the actual letters below.
Letter 1: Laying the groundwork
COLUMBIA HOUSE DVD CLUB
PO Box 91601
Indianapolis, IN 46291-0601
Dear Sir or Madam,
I have already requested, on several occasions, that you correct the invoices referenced because I am not your customer. However after months of polite reminders, you have yet to comply. Please let me make myself perfectly clear: I did not want nor did I receive the anything for which I am being billed, and I am not associated with your company in any way. I have received nothing from your company, and owe you that same nothing in return.
Countless hours have been wasted in reiterating the same to your customer service department (online) and to your ridiculous collection agency (via phone and letter). In my opinion it would be best to pack it up and go somewhere else. Isn’t there a shut in, college student, or an old person you can bother with this frivolity? I’m sure they have more time than I do to entertain such b.s.
What’s the use in wasting more paper sending a bill to someone for items he or she did not order, does not want, and will not pay for? Really and truly, can’t you just stop this madness?!
Indignantly,
Letter 2: It continues
Dear Sir or Madam,
I can’t believe it’s been almost a month since you’ve written.
Thank you for your correspondence, but as I explained in my last reply, enclosed, I did not receive nor will I pay for any product from you. Your threats and scare tactics are as laughable as they are moot. If you’re going to report me to “my local credit bureau” it would be exponentially more effective if you knew my first name. But feel free to continue to refer to me as “J”. That really adds a bit of mystery to the whole tattletale issue.
However, as a businessperson, I suggest that rather than mailing erroneous collection letters, perhaps you could invest the money in a phone system where a live person answers, or dare I say, a billing system with some semblance of accuracy.
I appreciate all your hard work on this matter. As promised, correspondence from my attorney will follow, as will your long and much-deserved stay in hell. With that thought I’d like to remind you to have a nice day.
Letter 3: About four months later — suggestions for their future
Dear Sir or Madam,
For some unfortunate reason you don’t seem to take a hint. You’re like my ex-boyfriend who keeps coming around hoping to get something. I thought it might be worthwhile to enclose his resume; perhaps he has a career with your company.
Let me tell you exactly what I told him: I don’t want anything you have, and I owe you nothing.
I have enclosed copies of my previous correspondence to you and my email responses to him. You have a lot in common — he isn’t all that bright either, but has that exasperatingly relentlessness quality nearly everyone finds grating. It is my ascertain that this is a lovely match for you both and I’m certain he’s not all that busy.
If it doesn’t work out with him, I live next door to a very old woman with a poodle you could kick. Good luck.
____
Crazy, yes. Effective, indeed. Interestingly, I’ve not heard from CH since. And if you’re wondering, I did enclose everything mentioned in the last letter.
