Dear charming new coffee shop: I like your edgy decor, your tasty tea, and your cheerful service, but if the chicken salad tastes like dessert, it's too sweet, and if the texture feels like babyfood, then you need to stop pureeing and start chopping--or, better yet, tear up the chicken by hand so it comes out in chunks recognizable as meat. Too sweet + pureed to smithereens = off my list of acceptable lunches.
Dear person responsible for communicating with me in a timely manner: GAAAAH! If you do your job correctly, then maybe I can do mine too, okay?
Dear person responsible for selecting fabrics for women's professional attire: What ever happened to natural fibers? Not everyone wants to be walk around wearing the equivalent of a Hefty trash bag every single day. And another thing: if the fabric on the SALE SALE SALE blouse is so thin that I have to buy a second shirt to wear underneath it just to preserve a modicum of decency, then how am I saving any money?
Dear helpful bank employee: You did exactly what I needed you to do quickly and efficiently and with a smile on your face, and you even apologized for something that was totally not your fault. What's wrong with you? How am I supposed to write a mini-rant if you won't supply me with some good material? Get with the program or I'll--I'll--let you take care of all my banking needs!