Quite some time ago, I’d rented a car to head out to Montreal. Upon my return, I dropped the rental off at the rental place and tucked the keys into their safety deposit mailbox.

The next morning, I realized that I’d left one of my favourite CDs in the car (the slow songs from George Michael’s double ‘best of’ CD compilation). I rang the car rental place and was told they had found nothing.

That evening, Natasha and I were heading out for coffee downtown and we parked across the street from the car rental place; I noticed that the car I had originally rented was unmoved, parked exactly where I’d left it. Out of curiosity, I walked over to the car and peeked inside.

Lo and behold, my CD was sitting on the passenger seat. Alone. Sad. Depressed. Unused.

Because it was evening, the car rental demons folks were closed and so I stomped back to my car and asked Natasha to give me 5 minutes to write them a rather severe letter…she obliged and sat quietly next to me in my car.

I pulled out my pad of paper and pen and started writing. I was using phrases like
“I do not appreciate…”
“Unprofessional staff…”
“Expect to have my CD delivered…”
“Will never use your services again…”
“Took a photo of my CD sitting IN the car as proof…”
etc.

I was disturbed by the fact that the saleswoman would lie to me. I mean, how could she LIE to a customer? How much effort would it have taken for her to walk the ten feet to look into the car? I told her it was my favourite driving CD! The nerve of her, I kept thinking.

I was so livid, I could barely see straight.

When I had completed and signed my letter, I asked Natasha to read it and confirm that all was well. She slowly took it from my hand and read it carefully and at length.

When she looked up at me, I asked: “Do you think they’ll take me seriously? Do you think they’ll send me my CD? I can’t believe they lied to me!”

“Yeah, Maha, I’m sure they’ll take you seriously…especially since you’ve written the letter on this pink. Hello. Kitty. Paper.”

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