valentine's day: a brief (visual) synopsis

la fin.

woe is me.

Friday was cold. It was a frigid, dry, blustery day, not unlike every other day has been for the past few weeks, and not unlike it ought to be in the midst of winter. It was also a quintessential day for steaming hot, make-my-nose-runny, delicious soup.

* * *

Sometime after noon, I wrap myself in my scarf and coat and journey out into the sunny chill to procure some soul-warming soup. I hike over to the “a.b.p.” as one of my office buddies likes to refer to it, and opt for a cup of clam chowder. I am a sucker for a creamy chowder (New England of course, not Manhattan, mind you).

Next I find myself in a nearby deli in search for some pita chips because soup always needs a dry, crunchy companion, be it the modest oyster cracker, the old standby saltine, the crisp crust of a baguette, or the noble pita chip. I select my bag of Deep River Snacks Sea Salt Baked Pita Chips, which I’ve never tried, but which look promising. The hefty $1.25 I pay for the 1.5 oz. bag seems to guarantee my enjoyment.

Back in the safe, climate-controlled environment of work, I remove the lid from my cup of soup and begin to indulge. I finally decide to follow my first several spoonfuls of soup with my first chip. I open the bag of pita chips, remove chip number one, and choose not to dunk it in chowder, but rather to take the first one bare. I go in for the crunch, and to my tremendous disdain, get nothing but a measly, giving snap—not even a sharp, alert SNAP.

Well, yuck.

And it goes on. Chip after rubbery chip is stale until all of the chips are gone and I’ve eaten my entire $1.25 of dissatisfying, deceitfully promising starchy glub.

Unacceptable!

I jump onto my computer, conveniently located beside me, and zip over to www.DeepRiverSnacks.com. I search for a customer service contact, find nothing but sales@deeprivesnacks.com and have at it. Still simmering with discontent, I whip up an e-mail explaining my unhappiness with the company’s stale product through a brief narrative, suggesting they look into featuring a “consume by” date (later finding a “Sell By” date clearly marked on the cellophane bag), and declaring that I will never again purchase one of the company’s products (the real kick in the shins). I click on “Send”. I don’t have my $1.25 back. The bag of stale chips I finished off minutes ago was still not crisp and delightful.

Back at home several hours later, I check my trusty gmail account and see:The e-mail reads:Well now I feel abominable. Defective bag materials!? Undoubtedly, these pita chips, in their unfortunate, faulty baggies have been rampantly disappointing many others to the dismay of Deep River Snacks. What a bind this “small family run company” is in now, and I’ve just gone and chucked a pebble at it while it’s down. How mean I am.

And now they want me to allow them to ship me some free product to prove that their products are worth purchasing?! Part of me declares, ‘By all means, please prove to me the worthiness of your product by sending free samples here…,’ while part of me wants to write back, ‘No, no, don’t trouble yourselves. Defective bag materials? Well, let me know when those bags are once again affective and I will go right out and purchase one or two dozen bags myself. And please do pardon the harsh tone of my previous e-mail, I apologize for letting my emotions take over my rationale.’

So, do I take advantage of the apparent dedication this company has to its customers, allow it to win me over to its fairly mediocre product (beyond the tactile dysfunction, the chips really didn’t have much flavor for a brand that boasts: Great Snacks.. Serious Flavor™—though it was Sea Salt flavor, how much flavor can one expect…), purchasing the brand every chance I have simply because of this one incident? Or do I stick with my initial indignation, swear off the brand at all costs, and demand my free product to get my $1.25 worth? Or maybe I should simply do nothing, and prevent this tiny event from causing me anymore concern?

Complaints!

#001: This is not what I paid for.
I found and purchased a promo copy of The Stills' Without Feathers at Princeton Record Exchange this weekend for $2.99 (nice), only to find that I can’t import the damn thing to my computer and therefore my iPod (boo). At first I thought my computer was just on the fritz, but upon further investigation, I noticed this abominable message printed on the disc:
Well, I sure did let out a loud pirate exclamation at this! The inability to translate this spinner to digital-friendly format will severely limit my enjoyment. I can’t even play the CD on my computer in any capacity. Well this certainly bites good and hard.

So…now I’m finding different methods of bypassing the protection using felt tip markers and post-its? Anyone have any ideas...?

#00…: Well, I’d imagined there’d be more, but really, I can only thing of just the one for now… =)