Unsent Letters by Heather Mark

Dear The Biggest Loser,

Since season one, I have always been a huge fan of your show. It is so inspirational. But even more than that, it is motivational. When I watch The Biggest Loser I see some really unhealthy people overcoming major obstacles and turning their lives around. If they can do it, I can at least do half of what they do.

But please, producers, no other show on television features such blatant, tactless and obvious product placement as The Biggest Loser. I understand that the advertisers are the ones who pay for the production costs. And back when I worked for Warner Bros. I would frequently visit my friends over in the product placement office when I needed shampoo or corn chips or toothpaste. I have personally benefited from product placement enterprises. Not that that has anything to do with this letter, I just sort of miss getting free stuff.

Anyway, tonight you cut into the show so a couple of contestants could talk about how great Orville Redenbacher popcorn is. Last week it was something else, I forget what it was now but I remember commenting to my husband how lame your product placement strategy is. Obviously the practice isn’t working if I can’t even remember what the product du jour was just last week. Oh, ZipLoc, was that what it was? I think it was ZipLoc bags.

Here’s my recommendation.  Stick to Jillian yelling at people and young girls gushing over Bob. I want to see blood, sweat and vomit in every episode. Thank you for hearing me out.

Gobble gobble!

Heather Mark

Dear Baby Einstein,

I am a very weary new mom. Thank you so much for saving my sanity. You see, my three month old son is not the independent type. If he isn’t being held he cries like somebody lit his diaper on fire. But by some miracle of distraction, your Baby Einstein videos entertain him to no end.

It never occurred to me that a baby born just a handful of weeks ago, with limited eyesight no less, could enjoy television. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to be one of those moms who dumps their kid in front of the TV just to get him out of her hair. It’s just that Baby Beethoven keeps him quiet and happy for a little while, long enough for me to take a shower or sit here writing a letter to you.

Let’s be honest, who wants to be up at 6am on a Saturday if they don’t have to? Not me. Last night was long, I’m pretty sure my baby will never sleep through the night. Not even a gargantuan cup of coffee was working for me this morning. I plopped little baby in his Boppy chair in front of his Baby Einstein and I enjoyed some wake up time to myself on the couch.

Thank you, Baby Einstein. You are a diamond in the rough.

Groggily yours,

Heather Mark

Dear [Name Redacted],

Who the hell do you think you are? Your job posting on Problogger.net throws mud in the face of every self respecting freelance writer on the face of planet Earth. I thought I was pretty well suited to your job listing and I was eager to apply until I came to this line:

My name is [Name Redacted]. Find my email and email me.

We are writing professionals, [Name Redacted]. Do you really think we have time to scuttle all over the internet to find your stupid e mail address? Is it really such a privilege to write for the illustrious [Name Redacted] that you’ll pay us a whopping $20 per post? You pissed me off enough not to want to look for your e mail address but to find out who you think you are. A quick Google search for “[Name Redacted]” told me all I needed to know–you’re a stuck up, barely 21 year old wannabe internet sensation. You think you’re the bee’s knees because you’re big on StumbleUpon.

Reality check, [Name Redacted], no self respecting freelancer is going to “find your e mail”. We have better paying, more reputable publications to write for than your dumbass website that doesn’t even exist yet. Good luck finding your perfect candidates.

Truly enraged,

Heather Mark

Dear Garmin,

Zoiks! We sure were excited when we received a Nuvi as a wedding gift. Being the avid travelers my husband and I are, we couldn’t wait to experience the navigation juggernaut you have created. Usually you’re spot on with directions. But last week in Detroit and today in Orlando you took us on a wild goose chase.

Since when are you the purveyors of U-turns? For no apparent reason, Nuvi will tell us to turn in the opposite direction of our destination and then U-turn us back in the right direction. What are you trying to do to us? This isn’t Pin the Tail on the Donkey. We don’t want to be disoriented when we’re driving rental cars in unfamiliar cities. Especially in Detroit. Have you ever been lost in Hamtramck? It’s a bad, bad scene. Just Google “Hamtramck” and “crime” and see what kinds of scary stats pop up.

Anyway, thanks for your attention. No more U-turns, a’ight?

Lost in my own city,

Heather Mark

Dear Guy Sitting in 21F,

I understand this airline has an open seating policy. In fact, I’ve worked for this airline since 2002 so I’m quite familiar with most of its policies. The thing about open seating is it’s full of surprises. You never know whom, if anyone, you’ll be sitting next to.

When I boarded, I was the very last person on. I was carring a car seat (with a baby in it), a car seat base, a diaper bag and one other carry on. I quickly settled in right behind you in row 22, which was the only open row on the plane. I installed my car seat in 22F and I sat in 22E.

I found it quite presumptuous of you to ask me to move my car seat to the aisle seat because it inconvenienced your reclinability. Normally I would feel bad for you because you couldn’t recline, but seeing as I was the last one to board and the front door of the aircraft was already closed I had no time to move the car seat. Not to mention it’s illegal to place a car seat in the aisle seat. When I pointed out the two empty seats next to you, both of which had a full spectrum of reclinability, you gave me attitude.

Perhaps if you’d offered me a hand in getting settled or just been courteous to me, I’d be more inclined to rearrange myself so you could recline 21F. But you were a jerk and no amount of trying to force your seat back repeatedly only to be blocked by my car seat was going to get me to move over. You’re a grown man, sir, an not much of a gentleman. A gentleman would have realized how preoccupied I was traveling alone with a newborn and all his gear and quietly sat in an adjacent empty seat.

I suppose, Mr. 21F, what I want is for you to learn some manners. But seeing as you made it 40something years without absorbing those lessons I understand you won’t be changing your ways. Good luck in the future, sir. Your method hasn’t worked so far, I encourage you to continue behaving badly for another 40 years. See where it takes you.

Whatever,

Heather

Dear those who want to sound like techies,

This note will be short and sweet. This is for all you late night informercials, ill informed copywriters and anyone faking their way through sounding technically savvy.

When referring to a web address, there is no need to refer to a slash as a backslash.

Indeed, there are two types of slashes–the forward slash and the back slash. The forward slash is also referred to as “slash”, the “forward” is understood. A forward slash looks like / . A back slash looks like \ .

You’ll notice that web addresses start with http:// . That’s colon-slash-slash, not colon-back slash-back slash.

I hope someone has gained something by reading my humble letter. I simply want to bring the world one step closer to semiotic harmony.

Cheers,

Heather

Dear Advocates of Increasing the Minimum Wage,

It’s a really, really, ridiculously bad idea to raise the minimum wage. $7 is very generous when you observe the talent pool available for many part time positions. Allow me to share my story of two recent sojourns into some local fast food establishments.

Last week, Sweetie and I decided to hit up the Wendy’s at Lake Underhill and Chickasaw for some delicious chicken sandwiches. Along with our delicious chicken sandwiches we both ordered garden salads instead of french fries. Our salads consisted of romaine lettuce with tomatoes, carrots and cucumbers on top. When Sweetie placed the order he was told we wouldn’t be getting tomatoes on our sandwiches as they were out of tomatoes that day. Unless you’re ordering a salad, I guess.

While Sweetie was handling the ordering, I was seated at a grubby table. Lucky for us, whenever we’re with Babe-O, (We actually spell it Babo but everyone mispronounces it Babbo, Boo Boo, Bamboo. So for simplicity’s sake, I’ll just spell it Babe-O.) and I have the diaper bag with me I can wipe down the grubby table with a baby wipe. That’s just what I did that day.

Incidentally, when I was in college I worked at the ice cream shop at the end of the hall inside Quincy Market in Boston. My boss always said, “If you have time to lean, you have time to clean.” That being said, I’ll return to my story…

So I wiped down our table because every single table had food stuck to it. Then the guy with the spray bottle came out all non-chalant like. He would approach a table, squirt squirt, gaze out the window, wipe wipe, gaze at the ceiling, move on. At a snail’s pace he moved from table to table. But get this, at the four-top tables that were two two-tops pushed together, he would only clean one of the tables. Who does that? It’s like putting lipstick on just the top lip. Or clapping with one hand. It just sort of goes without saying that if you clean half the table, you clean the other half.

I noticed a few minutes later that the squirt squirt guy had his fly down. With his shirt poking out through it.

Tonight, Sweetie, Babe-O and I came home from our trip to Michigan. I stayed home to feed Babe-O while Sweetie picked up some Taco Bell. He went over to the one on Semoran and actually went inside, not just to the drive thru. He placed our order, which was super simple. Like, a few soft chicken tacos and a soda pop. It’s definitely not complicated.

The first time they gave him the order it had, like, a dozen tacos and a salad. He gave it back. The second and third time they got the order wrong again. He stood there at the counter and Bon Qui Qui behind the counter says, “You still here?” Um, yeah. That’s when he handed her his receipt and said, “Read it. Put what I ordered in the bag.” She tried again and still got it wrong. We ended up with nachos, a burrito supreme, and two salsa tacos. Yes, I say salsa tacos because that’s what they were. Salsa inside a tortilla.

Now, I realize I’ve been long-winded about all this. But my point is, do people who can’t concentrate on Windexing tables deserve $10 an hour? If it takes four tries to put a few tacos in a bag and it still isn’t right, is that worthy of $30k a year? I unequivocally say, “No way, Jose.” These are gateway jobs. They are not meant to be a career, but maybe a launch pad for bigger and better jobs. Much like marijuana is a gateway to, say, shooting smack in the sexy-time bathroom with George Michael.

Thank you for your consideration, ye proponents of big paychecks for menial work. I know you will take my opinion to heart.

Best,
Heather

Dear Nashville Songwriters,

I’m not a country and western purist. While others criticize today’s trend towards pop and rock influence in the country genre, I kind of like it. (Except Taylor Swift. There isn’t even a hint of a cliche slide guitar or twangy yodel in her music. She just sounds so High School Musical to me.)

In the past few years there has been a trend in lyric writing towards the triple ententre. Yes, we’ve gone beyond the madness of the double ententre to the triple. I first noticed it in the Kenny Chesney song “There Goes My Life”. The character undergoes three different life experiences pertaining to the phrase “There Goes My Life” in each verse of the song. In the first verse he laments the inconvenience of an unplanned pregnancy in his youth. In the second verse, Chesney sings about how sweet it is that his little mistake has become an adorable little girl going off to bed. “There Goes My Life,” he says as she heads up the stairs. In the third verse he’s sending the little mistake off to college. As she drives off for the last time, you guessed it, “There Goes My Life”.

This formula is playing out too much. Please come up with something new. Poor Bucky Covington fell into the trap of the triple ententre with his latest single “I’ll Walk”. First verse, he has his first fight with his high school sweetheart and she doesn’t want a ride from him. “I’ll Walk,” she says. Verse two, she gets hit by a car that night and is hospitalized. “I’ll Walk,” she swears from her hospital bed. Third verse, she wants to walk down the aisle on her wedding day.

Enough with this sappy stuff! Bring back the songs about drinking and sin. There is no place for easy listening on my country dial.

A big fan,
Heather

Dear McDonald’s,

No doubt you’ve heard about the food shortge in the world. People in Darfur and North Korea and Afghanistan are starving thanks to irresponsible politics and out of control military guerilla groups. As such, it is inhumane to consider making fuel out of corn when so many children go for weeks without a morsel to put in their bellies.

Likewise, it is irresponsible of you to sell two Egg McMuffins for $2.10 while one sells for $2.85. You force your customers to purchase two Egg McMuffins in order to save money. The second Egg McMuffin will likely end up in the trash–a perfectly dispicable waste of grain, eggs, cheese and ham. Additionally, it encourages deforestation (wasted paper wrappers), overconsumption of fossil fuels and air pollution (the needless use of fuel for vehicles to move the supplies).

McDonald’s, it is your ethical responsibility to sell a single Egg McMuffin at a price which correlates more accurately to the cost of two.If that is not an option, I implore you to send rations to these needy people or, at least, donate funds to a relief organization.

Sincerely,
Heather Mark

Dear Today.com,

I’m going to be brief because I think this speaks for itself. How in the world did this blogger become number 7 on your site? You should be ashamed! I can’t even justify putting the URL down because I don’t want them getting any more hits.

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Just another struggling blogger,
Heather