Dear Sirs, or My Grumpy New Year

Well, it's officially 2008. New blog years to mark, new movie list Excel spreadsheets to column out, new resolutions to break. I hope you all survived. I did, spending a virtually alcohol-free New Year's Eve with the Sauerkraut Band. Oxymoron, I know. But it was a gig, and a dry one at that. We did meet secretly (in the basement of a church, no less) before the gig, closed a door behind us, Fearless Leader Ed pulled out the Jagermeister, and we sang a round of "Ein Prosit" and all had a toast and a shot before the show started.

However, I'm now back home, back at work, back buying groceries and stomping around in the snow. And I knew that one of my first tasks of the New Year was to write a letter. See, you've seen pictures of Sherman in his ultra-cool remote control convertible, and the first time I showed this to you, I made a small comment that there was a story involved. And there is.

After opening the package, I told Mr M I was writing a letter forthwith to Mattel. He bet me I wouldn't, and I took him up on that bet. (He still owes me a quarter from that Christmas concert, by the way.) I knew I needed to vent about this, and I wasn't going to let it go this time, just take the punches given to me time and time again by the Manufacturing World.

So I went to Mattel's website to find out where I could contact them. It was huge circular maze of confusion. I could send them a letter, or call them, or use the website to find out about toy recalls. But I couldn't email them a complaint. And the more I looked around for a "contact us" link that actually let me write that email, the more I started to realize something.

Sherman's car wasn't made by Mattel.

And so then I had to find a whole new website. The MGA Entertainment website. And their site is fine, the "contact us" link not only gives me an address and a phone number, but has an email link that tells me that's their preferred method of contact. I was starting to like those MGA people.

And so I pasted my very eloquent letter into their email box and hit the "submit" button. I got a window telling me my email had to have less than 2000 characters. And you know, I'm nothing if not wordy, but I went back and started paring, started taking out spaces and unneccessary words, and I pared more and hit "submit" for about 45 minutes. I still got the window.

I finally got a little pissed off at the whole affair, so I opened up Microsoft Word, which I'm no fan of, pasted my letter there, and started using the "word count" feature. It took forever, but I got my flowery complaint to 1978 characters. I hit "submit." I got an error screen. I hit it again, and got the same thing.

So at this point, I don't give two shits what their preferred method of contact is. I've printed out my un-pared original letter, on my brand-new printer, thanks Mr M, and I'm sending it first thing tomorrow morning. Along with a separate note of complaint about their email system.

I'm sure you're asking at this point, well, I hope you are, anyway, "Dearest Bet, what could possibly have you to the point where you'd spend all this time writing a toy company?" It's something I wrote a very angry blog about on 8/29/06. Yes, I was again the victim of Corporate Overpackaging, on such a scale that crying out in anger (via email or post) was all I could do to save my sanity.

So here's what I have to say. To MGA Entertainment and anyone else who'll listen.

I'm an adult woman. Childless, but a sometime toy and doll collector who will buy something that strikes my fancy.

Over the Christmas holidays I purchased your Bratz remote control sports car. I'm sure you know the one. The white convertible with FM radio capacity, opening doors and trunks, and safety belts on the seats. And don't get me wrong. It's a great car. It's well-made, adorable, and works perfectly.

The problem with the car is that I didn't think I'd ever get to experience the fun of owning it.

I brought your car home from the store and proceeded to open it up. It was approximately 8:00 pm. I began on the outside, on the plastic pull tabs. They were taped shut to the box. They would not pull open, nor would they give when I slid a finger or fingernail underneath them. I tore the plastic around them for the first two tabs, then resorted to a small kitchen knife for the rest.

Once I had the box open, I found that the car, which in its box is perched on a small cardboard platform, a platform that has nothing underneath it, well, almost nothing, was taped to both the box and the platform, and that you had also taken to using a favorite packaging item, twist-ties, to bolt it down on each side. And to add insult to injury, these twist-ties weren't just poked through plastic and cardboard and twisted. They were - as I'm sure you already know, since you did this - run through thick plastic bolts, then knotted anywhere from three to five times. And these twist-ties are not the simple kind we get around TV wires and the like. They are so thick and unwieldy, fingers became sore after about the second knot.

After finally getting the cardboard platform untied from the box, I was left with - a really cute car affixed to a cardboard platform. With tape, which I managed to cut away, only to find that what was underneath that cardboard platform was more bolts and twist-ties, this time with the ties not only threaded through the bolts and knotted multiple times, but also threaded through the spokes of each of the car's tires. After untwisting the first tire's knots, I could take it no more. I resorted to the kitchen knife again, but these twist-ties were so thick and strong the knife wouldn't cut through them. Finally, my friend, who until now had been watching me tackle this automobile with some bemusement, went looking through his tools and found a wire cutter.

He cut the twist-ties and freed the car from the cardboard platform, and we were still left with a car we could not play with, because we had to de-thread the remainder of the twist-ties through the spokes of the car.

So I began opening my car at 8:00 pm. I finally began the task of loading the batteries into it at 8:55. And pardon me for being so bold, but that's just too long.

I know of no reason your packaging must be like this. It's absurd. In fact, there was a point during the opening where I wondered aloud what Christmas morning must be like for the poor child receiving this car, this child who's chomping at the bit to play with it, and the poor parent who gives it and has to spend the entire morning getting the thing out of the box. And isn't the age recommendation you place on your products actually wrong, when a knife is needed to open the box for play to begin?

If you can explain to me why you must use these overpackaging methods, I would love to hear it.

Thank you

You know, I generally don't like having my picture taken, but it might have been a little entertaining had Mr M (or the DeepFatFriar, who was also around for part of the trials and tribulations) had thought to video the event.

Anyway, it's written, printed, and in an addressed envelope. I don't expect a reply, but it doesn't matter, I got it off my chest. Even though I would certainly enjoy a reply, just to see if anyone can give me an answer to my question.

And now that that's done, I'm headed off to fire an angry email to BBCAmerica. I figure if I'm going to be a Grumpy Consumer in 2008 I may as well go at it full-bore. And I can get that email done with a minimum of characters:

"BBCAmerica - Why are you showing the American version of 'Dancing With The Stars?' This show is crap. I could live with it if you were showing the British version of that show, because it would at least be British crap. But you're showing American crap. This defies description, but if you'd like to try and describe to me why you're doing this, I certainly will listen. Yours truly, Bet."

There. Unless BBCA have a maximum capacity of 393 characters, I'm fine.

But I'm not fine. I'm grumpy. I'm pretty happy, but I'm also grumpy. I guess I'm also Dopey and Bashful. And definitely Sleepy. I've even been a little Sneezy lately.

I'm not Doc, though. I guess I'll just never be all things to all people.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Acrowinners! We have First Acro of 2008 Acrowinners! So, what's your resolution this time around?
- Honorable Mention goes to the dishy Michelle, with her, "Make some omelets for erstwhile Jews." Dishy loves to cook, and I editorialized her entry because I'm sure she meant "for" instead of "from."
- Runner-Up goes to Kellie with an ie, with her, "Make scrapbook of favorite Ervin journeys." Awwww, Ervin the cute - I want pictures!
- And this week's winner goes to the DeepFatFriar, with his, "Master saxophone, oboe, fluegelhorn, elementary jazz." Very ambitious indeed, Friar. (And I liked your entry devoted to Alice the cat as well.)
- Thanks to all who played - you've all done very well!