Thank you for making my day miserable yesterday. It was particularly heartwarming the way you started our conversation by asking if I was safe, yet then refused to come help me because it was my husband's name on the card and not mine. REALLY? I mean, REALLY? Because it was John's name, you're telling me that he had to actually BE there for me to receive assistance? Despite the fact that I can tell you his birthdate, social security number, and even his freakin' blood type? Despite the fact that he actually CALLED YOU FROM TAMPA TO
Did I mention that I am stranded with a sick, hungry, and tired baby? Did I mention that this is the THIRD TIME TODAY that my car has broken down?
Oh, that's right. I did mention that. And you STILL told me that you couldn't come help me.
I am SO GLAD that we pay for
Your most frustrated customer of the year, who would probably do something really mature like egg your offices, if she had any energy left after a day like yesterday.
P.S. That was totally my brother-in-law pretending to be John when we called for a tow truck, after my car broke down for the THIRD TIME at the gas station yesterday. If you're going to make up stupid rules, and not help frustrated mommies and their sweet little babies, I feel no remorse over doing whatever I have to do to trick you into coming and providing a service that, oh yeah, that's RIGHT, we ALREADY PAY YOU FOR.