...You Had Me at Froyo.

Dear Yogurtland,

We can no longer live like this. I cannot bury these emotions under your creamy "Real Flavors"® anymore. In an effort to preserve our relationship, I have a few questions and comments that demand immediate answering:

1) Why are you so delicious? I've known that there's cocaine in the Filet-o-Fish for a while now, but would you stoop so low? I think not. You're above that. You don't need illegal stimulants to make your product so addictive. I've read the fine print. I've read your terms and conditions and your ingredient labels. Unless you're pulling the wool over everyone's eyes, this addiction is only in my head. Do you want me to question my mental stability? Regardless of your answer, the original question still stands: why can't I quit you?

All I need is 173 days, Yogurtland. Then your unlimited cup will be mine.

2) Why have you not recognized my patronage? I visit you 1.4 times a week. And yet – YET – somehow you continue to maintain the facade that I did not win that trip to Puerto Rico. Statistically speaking, how is this possible? How many customers do you have that are as loyal as I? How many adult women find refuge in the brick-and-mortar experience of your product, present unpersuaded by tiny hands and high-pitched whining voices? How many of your customers struggle with diets solely because you exist? Not many. If this doesn't make me a super-mega platinum member worthy of your limitless cup, then I don't know what does.


I have accrued 175 points in 2 days short of three months. That's 175 ounces of your froyo in 88 days. That boils down to 1.9886 ounces of froyo per day. Sure, I buy for my friends, too, but it's because I'm a good person (and I want their points). How is this not worthy of some sort of corporate recognition?

3) Why have you not fixed that typo on your mobile app to which I so kindly alerted you? Rest assured most companies would lose my patronage at the sight of misspelling the word "raspberry" (especially to a company that holds said fruit so core to their existence), but I make an exception for you. You're welcome. You're worth it to me. I'm not proud and I'm not happy, but relationships require work. I'm putting in my half. Where's yours?

Not okay at all, Yogurtland.

4) Why have you not hired me yet? I filled out my application weeks ago. That typo I spotted that proves you need me is still there, illustrating that not only have you not given my application its due, but you don't know what's good for you, either. I. I am good for you. I breathe, sweat, and cry your product. I risk diabetes 1.4 times a week for your product. What other qualifications need I have?

Proof that I even endure mockery for you, Yogurtland. Mockery. Subtle, yes, but still mockery.

Well, Yogurtland, I've had my say. If you would be so kind as to address my concerns, you know where to find me. Just go to whichever Yogurtland of yours runs out of Ghirardelli caramel sauce and Pecans & Praline faster than any other location and I'll be there within 72 hours. Statistically speaking.