Monday, April 13, 2009

My letter to Laura Secord



Dear Laura Secord,

My name is Sarah Bertrand, and I am a 25 year old sugar enthusiast, who has a zest for life; as well as post holiday sales.

First of all, thank you so much for running across those fields to tell those guys about the war, like you did in that commercial. You are brave, and make delicious treats.

Secondly, I am writing to inform you of a forlorn and devastating situation that occured today with myself, as well as my manager, Sarah Butt (no relation). I have just taken a break from consoling her, but I do not know how long I have before she resumes her catastrophic downward spiral into the hopeless void of depression.

Allow me to explain.

She is unable to cease sobbing hysterically, nor will she stop smashing the heads off of any chocolate rabbits, chicks, roosters, or any other defenseless animal she can get her disappointed digits on.

Today we raced to your store at the Scarborough Town Centre location. We were salivating with glee at the thought of decadent treasures being stuffed into our delicate mouths. Alas, our dreams were dashed, and our hearts were shattered into 17 pieces, as a woman (she resembled a "Babs" or "Sheila") thrust her negative cloud of moodiness and despair onto us.

Sarah Butt was so overwhelmed with elation this morning as she tumbled out of bed, excited to see what the Easter Bunny had left behind for her. At your store. However, as we entered your chocolate haven, and were greeted by Sheila, Sarah excitedly screamed at her that you, Laura Secord, were the first thought on her mind this morning. You, your store, and your annual post Easter holiday Peter Rabbit treat sale. Babs then spat at her, with a degrading and judgemental tone, "That's sad. Really sad." My friend felt, dejected, bamboozled, and overwhelmed with humiliation.

Now Laura. I haven't even told you about the woman who unnecessarily bought every single one of your chocolate marshmallow treats , or the gentlemen who was silently judging us from behind the counter as we pranced excitedly from one display to another. We could get over that stuff. But this.. this is where we had to draw the line. We are simply not okay with what you've taught your employees an acceptable level of customer service should consist of. You were supposed to be a legend. Now, you've just conceded to sub par, inappropriate business behaviour, and you've made a mockery of everything you formerly stood for. Bravery, and chocolate.

I had to drag Sarah out of your store by the collar of her shirt, as she stood there spinning, throwing her arms in the air, and chanting, "Why is this happening to me??" I sincerely hope this matter can be corrected immediately. I will assume you will be sending us the items in your fall catalogue.. we don't enjoy anything with a fruity cream filling. I will also assume Babs will be dealt with accordingly; I would deem dressing her in a festive unitard and parading her through the mall necessary.

Thank you for your time, and the $18 worth of chocolate that Sarah ended up buying anyway in the end. It was delicious. Also, I did a project on you in elementary school. I got in trouble from my teacher when I told her I never understood why you were so strongly linked to chocolate. Could you please email Mrs. McKercher and explain the connection to her, while asserting that she was out of line in her discipline?

Sincerely,
Sarah Bertrand

1 comment:

Peat said...

I visited Laura Secord's home today on a sort of aimless trip through the Niagara region. The tour guide there made jokes about the lack of connection between Laura Secord and chocolate.
Apparently, the owner of the chocolate-making company was promoting his business on the 100th anniversary of her courageous feat and just used her name as a sort of free advertisment. Go figure.
If you're ever in the area of Niagara Falls again, the tour is totally worth the $5. :-)