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Dear Sirs and Madams,
I have had an absolutely preposterous experience at your store on Clinton Hwy in Knoxville, TN. I should have know better.
I went to the store, last Saturday, June 13, for one reason. I could have gone to Sears, but I chose you–rue the day. I went for one reason, to purchase new underwear. I didn’t have to do it. I could have gone to Sears or continued to wear the ones that my dear mother sent me off to high school in (initialized) some 20 years ago. But those had turned brown over the years, and on account of my new girlfriend, I wanted some bright and crisp ones. I chose you. I trusted you.
So I came home with my new and very costly underwear and put them on immediately as my new girlfriend was coming over that evening and I thought, “this may be the night.” I spent most of the rest of the day, maybe six hours or so, cleaning the bedroom, and then she came over. Well, to shorten this and skip stuff, when she pulled down my drawers what do you think she saw? Huh? They were just as brown as my old ones, streaks all over the place, and they even smelled old. How in the name of hell could you sell a product that wears out that fast? It completely ruined the whole evening. Then I looked at the wrapper. MADE IN CHINA! I was furious.
First thing Sunday morning after church and breakfast at IHOP, I went straight to, this was on the 14th, straight to the Clinton Hwy Walmart in Knoxville, TN. Now what do you expect in this situation? I HAD MY RECEIPT! First, the “greeter” refused to even put an orange sticker on the item to prove that I had brought the underwear into the store with me. What if they had tried to make me pay for these costly but cheap underpants again? But that wasn’t the worst of it. The lady at the customer service desk acted like I was a madman. I laid them out on the desk and showed her the unacceptable wear, and she would hardly even look at them. She kept backing up and looking around, and you know why? I think I know why. She realized someone was on to you. This is the sort of Wall Street corporate scandal that can rock a company, and she knew it, and you know it, and if someone doesn’t at least apologize to me, I’m going to make sure the whole world knows it. I will go from town to town, from Walmart to Walmart, holding a big sign with the word “SHAME” in bold letters at the top and your shoddy brown underwear taped beneath. I’ll do it, too, and you know what? I’ll do it on foot. I will walk my sign and your underwear all across America wherever there’s a Walmart. You think that won’t make national news? I think it will.
All I ask is an apology, and you can end this path of corporate suicide upon which find yourself.
Sincerely,
Eliot Angstead.
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