I recently subscribed to the Chicago Tribune. The subscription I paid for lasts 10 weeks and it automatically auto-renews. The agreement says I can cancel the subscription if I don't want it to auto-renew. I wrote this letter to prepare for that day. I am seriously considering sending this.
To Whom It May Concern:
Before I begin: the Chicago Tribune representative I spoke to - Charles, I think his name was - seemed to be a very friendly and considerate man. I was so impressed by his personality and demeanor that only minutes after speaking with him, I subscribed to your fine newspaper. (The free mug was also a nice touch - God bless you, Charles!)
Which is why it pains me so much to inform you that, unfortunately, I must cancel my subscription to the Chicago Tribune. The agreement I signed requested that if I for any reason needed to unsubscribe from your paper, all I needed to do was provide a written explanation of the cause of my dissatisfaction. I am being completely honest when I say that it truly pains me to write this letter.
The reason I must cancel my subscription is something I am a little embarrassed to reveal. Allow me to give a little backstory: I was blessed to have a kind and supportive mother and father, who were supportive and accepting of me in whatever I did. They recognized my individuality at a young age, and unwilling to tarnish this individuality with the conformity and systematic opression of the public school system, they opted to home school me.
My mother - God bless her - was a sweet and honest woman. Unfortuantely, she wasn't a very good teacher. As a result, I lack bits and pieces of knowledge that have inconvenienced me here and there in the hustle and bustle of the modern world.
Which brings me to the reason why I am canceling my subscription to your fine newspaper: I am illiterate. I have never learned to read and I suspect I never will. It was just one of those things I never did but probably should have, like volunteering in the Peace Corps or watching an episode of Friends, just to see what all the fuss was about.
But I digress. In the midst of Charles' enthusiastic sales pitch (such a bold display of charisma!), I was swept away by his beautiful words and real-world examples ("The paper used rub off on people's hands, but we've switched to smudge proof ink") and completely forgot that little caveat that would prevent me from fully enjoying the Tribune - that I don't know how to read or write.
You may be wondering how I am managing to write this letter to you. As I had previously mentioned, it pains me tremendously to write this letter - for more reasons than the fear of betraying my dear Charles. What I am doing right now is hitting random letters on my keyboard and hoping that they resemble written words and coherent sentences. I'm afraid I may be embarrising myself by sending you a letter of garbled text and non-existant words, so I hope this letter reaches you well.
Again, my deepest apologies to Charles, but in this difficult economic time, I feel it no longer makes sense for an illiterate man to recieve your paper. Again, I hope this letter is readable - the randomly hitting letters strategy almost never works. I would suggest that you write back if you have any questions for me. If that's so, mail away! - but I probably won't be able to read it.
PS: Could you perhaps consider an edition for us illiterate folk? Maybe a version where the pictures moved and talked. Thanks.