Whine & Cheese Company, Inc. - 1

Dear Mr. Whinnery,

I must say that I am flabbergasted at your attempts to belittle me and speak down to me. Just because I am a bartender, please do not make the mistake that I speak in such a low brow vernacular as you have used in your correspondence. I find it very insulting that you choose to communicate to me in that manner.

With the vernacular issue aside, my complaint is not about the genie having been worn out. In fact, the genie seems quite readily available for just about anything. The problem is, though, that this particular genie seems to have a hearing problem. Allow me to elaborate.

As I have already mentioned, I am a bartender, and so depend heavily on gratuities as a substantial portion of my personal income. I had a patron one evening who had been drinking to quite an extent and had extended quite a tab. I politely told him that he had too much, and it was time to pay his tab. With what he had left over after paying such a sum, he found he had no money left for a tip. And so, he pulled out of his bag a miniature piano and a tiny man, about ten inches in height. The music that this tiny man played was amazing, but I refused such an odd offer.

That is when I asked him where he found such a tiny man. He replied, "I wished for him."

"You wished for him?" I replied. "What do you mean?" He showed me a small antique oil lamp, which is the very same one of which you and I have been speaking. He told me that the lamp contained a genie, and then he offered it instead of the tiny man, since the pianist was not a satisfactory tip.

At first I was very skeptical at his inebriated claims, but I rubbed the lamp and out came the genie, to my great surprise. Almost without hesitation, I asked for a million dollars. I said, "Well, in that case I'll take a million bucks." The genie asked me to repeat the request. I had to do so three times before he finally seemed to hear me. However, the request was answered with my bar filling up with more ducks than I have ever before seen. I was ver distraught having to clean up such a mess.

When I began to confront the patron about his ill purposed gratuity, he simply stated, "Hey buddy, you don't think I really asked for a ten inch pianist, do you?" Evidently, this man had been single for quite some time and was looking for something to spur on his love life.

I have held on to the lamp, maintaining my certainty that a reputable company, such as yours, surely will make good on a honest man's gratuity. I really wish you would the time to rectify this matter.

I am sorry, but I must now discontinue this letter. It appears that the genie has misinterpreted that last sentence of the previous paragraph and is performing some sort of rectal exam. Apparently, he thinks I mentioned something about rectal matter.