By Deb Levy
About the Writer:
Deb Levy is a writer, graphic designer, mother-of-three and devotee of hip-hop dance.
I’m writing in reference to #1250216N – the classification you have assigned to my previous communication with your company.
As you may recall, my 6-year-old son wrote an impassioned letter asking all about the Crush Cups Guys. He was mesmerized by your commercials, featuring All-American Boys who ‘crush and slurp for a blast of fruity flavor.’ My son wanted to meet them. He wanted to ‘get his blast on.’
Specifically, my little boy wanted to know in which state your spokesmen lived. Which hotel. He wanted to meet these blond, tanned twins. Granted, you may not have been able to decipher his letter, what with his poorly developed fine motor skills and atrocious orthography (defined as the ‘art of writing words with the proper letters’ – FYI.) But I submitted a typed translation.
I should be grateful, I suppose, for the $3.00 in coupons you sent, valid on any Dannon product (excluding the 5.3 and 6-ounce yogurt cup). But let’s face it. Coupons mean diddly to a first-grader.
Couldn’t you have sent a headshot of actors Dylan or Cole? A letter addressed to the little boy who wrote to you in the first place? Because he honestly could care less that you are committed to providing consumers with the highest quality products. (And what manufacturer would say anything different?) My son wouldn’t know development from distribution if it bit his Bakugan, so the fact that you take great care during these stages to meet the highest standards … let’s just say, he is one customer who is not satisfied.
Really, it’s bad enough that you intrude upon this sacred babysitting time provided by the FCC, that you lead the future of our country to an over-dependence on needless plastic, that you have such a disdain for your consumer’s hard-earned American dollar (buying a large tub of yogurt is really so much cheaper than single-servings). But to blatantly ignore the pleas of your youth market?
My son worked really, really hard on his letter. And though his spelling sucks, his words came from the heart. Feed his body, if you must, with a concoction of high fructose corn syrup and unpronounceable chemicals passing, by some FDA miracle, as a dairy product. But at the very least, feed my boy with the belief that there is power in his written word.
He eagerly awaits your response.