XM Radio – Thanks, Chatty Cathy

We Canadians like our music. Whether it's the Canadian National Anthem, the Log Driver's Waltz, or the Hockey Night in Canada theme (see: Canadian National Anthem), we're a musical people.

But we're not big on the talking. Oh, we can talk when we have to, and people around the world love our bland, accent-free delivery, but we'd prefer not to. There are so few of us up here in Canadaland anyway we all know what the other ones are thinking. So, when my wife and I discovered the glory that was XM radio, our Canadian hearts were overjoyed!

It initially came with the purchase of a new car, and we didn't think we'd ever bother extending it beyond the bounds of the free trial afforded us. But then we realized the majesty of the thing. There were so many channels! I could drive to work listening to "The King of Wishful Thinking" and with a quick press of a button, rock out to "Anything for Love" by Meatloaf. And the best part was – no talking!

There were no announcers, telling me what I was listening to, following it up with the promise of weather and traffic in three minutes, and then making some sort of comment which I always assumed was intended to be a joke, but since it was devoid of all matter even remotely considered humorous by any portion of the world's population, I wondered why they bothered.

But XM! Oh, the glory! Oh sure, after the free trial it cost money but it was worth it. I got music but no talking. It was like getting all steak with none of the pesky vegetables.

Of course, it couldn't last. I started to hear, faintly, the strident voice of radio announcers, thin and reedy in the streelit night, calling out the names of songs like some kind of flightless bird's mating call. I began to hear a few comments, obviously intend to garner laughter, but I ignored them – they were as the distant waves on a broken shore to me.

But then it happened. Something so foul, so noxious, that I was surprised my radio didn't melt right off of the dash and puddle in the floor mats below. Something spoken of only in whispers, for fear that to speak its name would bring it's hateful eye upon you.

The morning show.

Even now, it gives me chills. I still remember the day I tuned in to one of my go-to stations, only to find the "classic" combination – two guys and one girl – yakking away, and taking phone calls from listeners. The radio apocalypse had come.

XM, I pay for service. PAY FOR IT. Why on this ever-blackening earth would I pay you for something I can get for free? Let's hope you've got an answer, because a letter is en route. Once you get it, you can talk all about it on your morning shows.

Happy Christmas

Greetings, world.

It's cold up here in Canadaland this Christmas, but rest assured we have not stopped being outraged on your behalf.

I have a few letters ready to go after the holiday season passes, so expect to see them up sometime in the next week or, failing that, after New Years.

No responses yet from any of the first letters sent out, but I expect they're still marvelling at my shining skill and wit. We Canadalandians are a clever people. Very cold, but clever.

So I wish you and yours a Merry Christmas and a hilarious, anger-filled Boxing Day, resulting in many worthy letter requests.

Cloverdale Paint - The Letter

To Whom it May Concern,

I am writing to you on behalf of consumers across this great nation of ours who may have encountered your strange and utterly unfathomable "two-part epoxy policy".

From what I understand, your stores currently adhere to a policy which will not allow them to sell quantities of two-part epoxy to the general public as it is "too volatile".

I've done my homework, via the Interwebs, and strangely I don't see a great many "child dies in preventable epoxy accident" or "man's face melts off while using store-bought epoxy" articles.

Hmm.

But hey, perhaps your company was simply trying to be responsible – to actively prevent any harm from coming to your customers, despite a lack of any real danger. Commendable!

But...wait.

It appears to be that policy of your stores is to refuse to sell the epoxy to an individual, but for a company, it's "how much would you like? Three truckloads? Yessir, right away sir!"

This wouldn't be a particular problem, except your individual customers are being given company forms, with a choice of either a cash or credit sale and told if they simply fill them out, they can have all the epoxy they want, all the time.

So....let's just think this whole thing through.

Customers who want to buy epoxy. Check!

Epoxy being dangerous. Check! (sort of)

Refusal to sell anyone except a company epoxy. Check!

Simple forms to fill out so anyone can create a fake company and buy gallons of (supposedly dangerous) epoxy? Check?

Honestly, Cloverdale, way to download responsibility on to the customer. "Hey!", you can say now, "We had no idea Al-Queda Contracting and Demolition was up to anything untoward! They had the company credit form all filled out!".

And really, how could you be responsible if "I hate my ex-wife and want to blow up her house using epoxy, Inc. (TM)" had purchased ten gallons of epoxy and done just that? I mean, they had a cash form filled out, for crying out loud!

Two-part epoxy is easily purchasable at other supply stores, and without the same rigmarole that takes place at Cloverdale. As a safety measure, this policy is ridiculous, and as a responsibility dump onto the consumer, it's laughable.

Just sell the epoxy, Cloverdale – it's that damn paint thinner that's really the trouble, anyway – that crap is dangerous.

Someone should probably make a form.

Warmest Regards,

Letter Sent 5:17pm Dec 15th, 2009

Cloverdale Paint - The Incident

This one comes from a friend of mine, who was trying to purchase some two-part epoxy which is, you know, for epoxying stuff.

He had intially tried going to Home Depot, which is a whole seperate incident and chain of letters in and of itself. Seriously - if you're going to wear a smock that says "You can do it, we can help", you should probaby know, oh, lets say – where the hell stuff is in the store.

It would go a looong way toward that whole "I can help" concept, rather than it being an "I can stare dumbly at you while you ask where bolts are, then wave vaguely down the length of the store and tell you its in aisle 13 or maybe 112...I think" concept. Great value there, yessir.

Anyhoo....

My friend went to buy some epoxy. As mentioned, Home Depot could not help him (grumble).

So, he went to Cloverdale Paint. And what did they tell him? That they could not sell him the epoxy because it was "too volatile". Now, since it was Halloween and the woman saying this to him was dressed up like a caveperson, it prompted him to say "are you serious?".

She was, sadly.

But, she told him, if he would just care to fill out a company registration form, he could have his epoxy right now! He had his choice: cash account or credit account.

My friend, being the honest soul he is, chose not to create a blantanly fake company and purchase his epoxy. Well done, sir.

But Cloverdale paints - really? You don't want the responsibiliy of selling this apparently "volatile" product to the general public so you just download that responsibilty to the consumer by allowing an immediate cash purchase as long as the customer can come up with a company?

Wait right here, Cloverdale paints lady! I'm going to go to my truck and totally...not...make up a bogus company and then come back in here. Not at all. Gotta go.

Enjoy your letter, Cloverdale. It's deserved.

Western Family Foolishness – The Letter

To Whom it May Concern,

I am long-time buyer and eater of your foods. I have enjoyed your bread, your ice cream, and even your salad dressings for many a year.

I have a Save-on-Foods quite near my home, and I go there regularly for my weekly grocery needs. Sometimes I laugh at your amusing product names, and I know that you are forced to deal with a competitive market, one in which many of the good and clever brand names are already taken.

I’ve had the long-defunct "Dr. Buzz", your Dr. Pepper alternative, and liked it. I’ve never eaten Fruity-O’s, but I can imagine what they taste like.

And I wonder, Western Family Foods, what your advertising department looks like. Is it just one lonely guy, working out of his basement, watching television ads and surfing the Internet, hoping to find a clever product name and then rip it off into something different enough that it will pass copyright, but derivative enough that it will be clear what he is copying?

Or do you have a team of Rhesus monkeys with a bin of magnetic words and a large fridge that they hurl them at?

I can only imagine it is the latter after stumbling on to this gem of a brand name in the cookie aisle: Blast O’ Chunks.

Really?

I mean….really?

I can give you five names better than that right here, right now.

Blast O’ Chips. Chunks O’ Cookie. Chips Galore. A Ton O’ Chunks. Chunky McCookerson’s Chocolate Explosions.

See? All of them better than Blast O’ Chunks.

I’m not sure if there was a quality control process here, but if so, it failed miserably. As a public service, I’ll act as quality control here and now, so perhaps this problem can be rectified.

This product sounds like a euphemism for vomiting.

That’s right, vomiting.

If the intention is, and I can only assume that it is, to have consumers purchase this product, it needs to convey the idea that it is full of yummy-tasting (presumably) chocolate-chip cookies. As it stands, despite the picture on the box, it sounds like a container full of vomit.

Unsurprisingly, vomit is a poor seller.

I understand the need for products such as this, and in fact, I appreciate it. There are have been several times in which I have found a grocery store brand product to be superior to the "real thing". This may even be one of those cases, but I’ll never know, and neither will anyone else, with a name like this.

While it may not be feasible to alter this product name now that it is on the market, I offer this helpful general suggestion – once the monkeys have finished their shift and gone home for the day, have a human look over their work before sending it straight to printing. In fact, have that human say it out loud a few times, think about what it might look like to have it on millions and millions of boxes. I can just about guarantee you’d sell more Chunky Blasts that way.

Warmest Regards

Letter Sent 11:39am Dec 8, 2009

Western Family Foolishness – The Item

This one doesn’t really require a lot of explanation.

A picture is worth a thousand words, as they say – or in this case, 2 and ¼.

Wow. Just. Wow.

Seriously, Shoppers Drug Mart – The Letter

To Whom it May Concern,

I am long-time and somewhat sporadic customer of your stores. I remember having a Shoppers Drug Mart in my neighbourhood as a child, sterile and over-white, with cheap Christmas gifts and a large pharmacy.

Frankly, the Shoppers Drug Mart was never the place I went for everything I needed, but when I felt sick, or needed a prescription filled, your institutional white floors and buzzing overhead fluorescent lighting called to me. I knew that I would be able to find what I needed, at a fairly decent price.

But as I became older, you began to change. Suddenly, the Shoppers down the street had an entire grocery section and started to sell digital cameras. Odd, I thought, that someone would shop there when Shoppers insisted on building their new stores next to preexisting grocery stores, but I paid it little mind.

And then one day, it happened.

I walked into a store and assumed I must have taken a wrong turn. I retraced my steps, but found only one path leading from the front entry way. I searched in vain for a hidden switch along the wall, or a copy of InStyle Magazine I could pull to reveal a dark passage to the main floor of the store.

Cautiously, I followed the trail laid out for me, and confirmed my worst fears. The entry to the store led to one point and one point only: The Makeup Section.

I've been to other, newer, stores, and this design is repeated again and again. I have only one question – is it your intention to lose business?

As a man, I have no need for makeup products, and thus no need to enter via that section. Ever. I do not buy makeup products for my wife, as that would result in her returning them and marvelling at my lack of a color palette.

Oh but the women! The women, I hear you cry. Are you serious? Most people come to the Shoppers Drug Mart to buy drugs or health products, not cameras, or their weekly groceries, or makeup. Further, many people come into your store sick.

Do you really believe they want to be greeted by the dead-eyed overly made-up harpies that guard your borders when it took them all the courage they had simply to leave the house in the hope that no one would notice them so they could quickly get their medicine and return home to a warm blanket?

And if your intention was to limit thievery by making a choke point entry to the store, does it really make sense to force people into the section of the store containing some of the most expensive items there? I'm going to go out on a limb here and say no.

Shoppers Drug Mart, shame on you. No one is served by this change, and it is totally ridiculous. You know it. I know it. Just give it up. I, the women of the country, and the overburdened and overly madeup makeup staff of your stores will thank you.

Warmest Regards

Letter Sent 6:57pm Dec 2, 2009

Seriously, Shoppers Drug Mart – The Incident

So it's March of 2009.

Or maybe it's winter of '08.

Frankly, it doesn't matter. I'd noticed it several times, but there was one particular time that got me really riled up, and I thought – someone should write a letter.

You see, there's a new design among Shoppers Drug Mart stores, one that has been duplicated in every store I've been into in the last year. In this new model, the customer must walk directly through the makeup section to access any of the rest of the store.

How does this make any sense? I, as a man, have no need of makeup. Not every woman heading to the Shoppers Drug Mart, is there to buy makeup. Many people, in fact, go to the Shoppers when they are feeling bad, and look like crap, because Shoppers Drug Mart sells, well, drugs!

This design choice makes no sense and someone needs to tell Shoppers that. I am that someone.

Will it change? Not likely. Ah, but will it change if I do nothing? Not at all. Plus, it won't be as funny.

Take it away, letter number one!

Times, they are a-chagin'

Greetings, world.

Welcome to A Letter from Canadaland, an idea I had a few months ago when walking into a Shopper's Drug Mart.

You see, I'm a Canadian. We Canadians are a helpful, peaceful, and generally clean people. We don't cause any trouble, and we try our hardest to elect the blandest, most banal politicians we can. People often forget we exist, tucked way up here on top of America's head, and that's sort of the way we like it.

Oh, we complain and whine about how Canada isn't getting its due on the global stage, but that's about all we do. We don't bomb people, we don't riot in the streets and flip cars (with a few exceptions – Montréal, I'm looking at you, here), we just get indignant and let it stew up inside our maple-filled and backbacon-coated hearts.

Well, no longer! No longer, I say! I will take up the crusade of all Canadians against stupidity and ridiculousness in a way which is utterly Canadian – The Strongly Worded Letter.

Each week, I will be writing a letter to a company or organization, detailing their utter ridiculousness and what I think they should do about it. This will be a real, honest-to-goodness paper letter that will be postmarked and sent. The reply (if any) will also be posted.

So check back! What did Shopper's Drug Mart do to garner the wrath of Canadaland and begin this wild ride? Only time (and more realistically, this Blog when you come back next week), will tell.