Like your high school guidance counselor, our door is always open. Drop your gripes, story tips, musings, rantings, or fabulous ideas in the box at firstname.lastname@example.org. Unlike your counselor, we will help you get into college. The college of good consumerism.
It’s Monday, and that means it’s time to spin the Consumerist faucet for a fresh influx of tips again.
Every time Ben lugs his bronzed body into a television studio, we get indundated with hundreds of emails within minutes… an armada of people up late in the middle of the night, writing in as one, to tell us about their mistreatment.
The Monday Morning Reader Round-Up is a great way for me to both nurse a hangover and help me make my Monday post quota. It’s the standard spiel: our biggest stories come from the anecdotes of our readers. We want you to send us your complaints, your links, your commendations, because this site is written by you more than it is by me and Ben. Then I give you the email address to write to: email@example.com. And then I round-up last week’s readers stories.
It’s likely to be a slower paced week here at the Consumerist. We’ll still be posting, but it won’t be quite to the volume you’ve come to expect. Ben is taking the next couple days off to lounge about inflating his beer belly in the Hamptons, and working half-days the rest of the week. I, on the other hand, will be spending much of the week in the Netherlands, exchanging kusjes with fly honey-haired Dutch girls.
It’s Monday Morning. A fresh week of consumerist complaint awaits us! With approximately one million, seven hundred thousand customer service calls fielded per day (source: our ass), even if an optimistic 0.01% of those calls is fielded by a cretinous sack, that is a yield of over 17,000 unsatisfactory customer service interactions. Slimy bottom feeders that we are, we want to hear about them!
We say this every week with some subtle variation, because every week it’s true: you guys write this site, we just get paid for it.
Forget not, we thrive on your spillings of fears and finds. Without them, we begin to fade like Marty McFly after it looked likely he would end up schtupping his own mother. To avoid this calamity, send in your links to relevant blogs you think we might like, your personal true horror/heaven stories of business dealings, rants, kvetches, we want them all. We feed upon them, digest them and often regurgitate for everyone to see and enjoy. Just drop them in our tip box.
Happy Independence Day! Ben and I are taking it easy and sleazy over the next couple days, so today will be a half day and tomorrow will be a null day. However, we will undoubtedly stumble back to work with bloodshot eyes and throbbing brow on Wednesday morning and then, more than ever, we will need your tips to regurgitate on the site verbatim with a minimum of commentary in order to make our Gawker imposed quota.
Due to gross incompetence in tagging last week, we’re leaving off our usual bullet point list of reader stories: either the site’s tagging system has suffered a thrombosis along with last week’s quadruple Movable Type heart attack or both Ben and myself really spaced out on tagging reader stories last week. Considering we both spent the vast majority of it drunk in NYC, the latter is as distinct a possibility as the former.
Over the last week, you told us about UPS deliveries that took over a year and Dell’s weekly promises to ship an imaginary product. You complained about McDonald’s breakfasts and lousy T-Mobile CSRs. The IRS sold all your personal records to the lowest bidder. Soho moved to American Warehouse. Bayer sold you a little bit of AIDS in your aspirin. Citibank lost your data again, Vonage fucked you, Office Depot gave you the run around. You found sexy home made porn on your friend’s hard drive and emailed to tell us about it. And there was a hell of a lot of crappy flying going down.
After a record week for readers’ emails, last week was a bit slower, with about half of the previous weeks’ 27 emails. I guess we’re bleeding you guys dry. Perhaps you don’t have what it takes to be a disgruntled consumer? We’re throwing down the gauntlet: can’t you guys find something to complain about?
Last week was a big week for reader tips: we posted over 27 of the damn things. God bless you, our gentle readers, for the hundreds of dollars worth of posts we were paid for yet didn’t have to compose. We will think fondly of you when mopping up the tamali and caviar spilling forth from the innards of our champagne-boiled lobsters.
Trans-Atlantic candy gram from Mr. John Brownlee, Esq. to Lord Ben Popken, Editor. Remember the readers tag? Stop. You still need to remember to fucking use it. Exclamation point. End communication. Pay the boy, it’s COA.
Here at the Consumerist, we like saying this is your site a lot — the ballooing war cry that tickles an avalanche of tips and complaints from the glaciers of your consumer dissatisfaction. Not only does it allow us to get paid for your hard work, but it also happens to be a good example of feel good wankery that’s actually true. A lot of times, we think of ourselves less as editors as moderators of a consumer awareness forum where customers (pleased, homicidal or indifferent) can share their experiences with one another. And we’re always pleased when we can actually help you get satisfaction, either by putting our paws into the mess ourselves or by giving your issue a wider audience of expertise.