Dear Mr. Oreo,
I have long been a loyal customer of yours. Over the years, I have bought multiple bags of every variety of your delicious cookie. After mastering the technique of consuming your original product, I’ve moved on to the chocolate filling, the strawberry filling, and the granddaddy of them all, the Double Stuff. I’ve even enjoyed your reduced-fat variety.
Mr. Oreo, your name has become such a common topic in my household that I think of you as a close relative. You’ve had an honored presence at birthdays, holidays, picnics, little league events, and as after-school snacks. You are a part of me, a part of my family.
You’ve been good to me over the years. This is why it pains me so to write you this letter of complaint. But if I don’t let you know of my recent hurt and disappointment, how will you be able to make amends? I’d hate to think that a relationship which has endured the decades would end over one mistake. Yet, it was such a major mistake that I cannot let it slip by. So, with a sincere desire to maintain our long-standing friendship, I write this from my heart.
I was recently excited to be presented with one of your Oreo 100-calorie packs. My mouth watered, and I smiled as I reached for the small package that carried your name. Oreo, old friend, you are wonderful. You’ve created a product just for me. Now I can enjoy your ooey goodness without blowing my diet.
In anticipation of your velvety, melt-in-my-mouth filling, I tore into the package. The chocolate scent wafted through my senses, and I reached into the bag. My fingers grasped the tiny cookie, and my taste buds prepared for your creamy goodness. I pulled out the cookie and . . .
Wait. This can’t be right. Surely I’ve ended up with a dud.
I reached into the bag again and again, only to find they were all duds. Each and every tiny cookie was no more than a dark, dry cracker. No gooey filling. No creamy goodness.
Mr. Oreo, that is just plain wrong. False advertisement at its worst, in my opinion.
Oh, yeah, sure. Closer examination of the package showed your product’s complete name – in miniscule print. Oreo Cookie Crisps.
Nobody buys your cookies for the crispy part. If it’s only a crisp, it’s not an Oreo. If there’s no creamy filling, it doesn’t deserve to carry the esteemed Oreo name.
Honestly, Mr. Oreo, you are better than that. Such a dirty trick is beneath you.
So there you have it. Now you know how you’ve teased and tortured me and thousands of other dieters. Now you know how you have deeply wounded your most faithful customers.
I have faith in you, Mr. Oreo. I know that you will make every effort to rectify this wrong. I will accept a formal letter of apology, along with a year’s supply of Oreo Double Stuff. All the calories removed, of course.
May God bless you, and I look forward to hearing from you soon.
“If your brother sins, rebuke him; and if he repents, forgive him,” Luke 17:3.