Dear Extended Warranty Protection Plan

 

Dear Extended Warranty Protection Plan,

Upon paying for a new television yesterday, you attempted to surreptitiously prostitute yourself into my purchase.

Maybe people who wear pant suits and go to the dentist regularly and put warranty receipts into appropriately named sections of accordion folders residing in the second drawer down on the left, purchase The Extended Warranty Protection Plan. These people have no problems remembering, 3 years later when their shit breaks, that the receipt for The Extended Warranty Protection Plan is in the WARRANTY section of the accordion folder, right behind VACATIONS, before FOX MULDER, in the second drawer down on the left. These people can actually remember that they purchased The Extended Warranty Protection Plan in the first place. They have the patience and determination necessary to then handle the tedious Extended Warranty process, involving frustrating phone calls, affixing proper postage, mailing original receipts and driving around to return and replace their broken shit.

I am not one of those people.

After just shelling out a substantial amount of cash for a brand new TV, in my mind, you are nothing more than a clandestine attempt of a promise. I might as well make origami out of my money and send it down the river.

I do have an accordion folder, but I cannot tell you what’s in it, because the last time I opened it was about 4 years ago when I thought it was about time to become someone who had accordion folders. I also have a second drawer down on the left. It is currently filled with a bag of old Christmas lights, stacks of random papers that I thought were important enough to toss in there, a child’s coat hanger, a tangle of random cords to old devices, and a box of old checks from 4 houses ago.

It is quite enough for me to remember when the science project is due, to feed the dog, pack the lunches, and apply deodorant. Remembering in the first place that I had purchased The Extended Warranty Protection Plan, and on the improbable assumption that I did, driving myself crazy tearing the house apart looking for a slip of paper that I have the same likelihood of finding as Aretha Franklin has of finding her own vagina.

So I thank you for your offer to further protect my television, but I must decline due to the fact that I don’t own a pant suit and have not been to the dentist in 3 years.

Yours Truly,

Tracy Fulks

*10 extra credit points if you got the Fox Mulder reference.

24 replies

  1. I used to keep my paid bills and recipts in a huge drawer, and whatever was in the back was ‘old’ and what was in the front was ‘new’….that’s why I was called to librarianship (I’m the worst organizational librarian going) – and nothing has changed except I make my husband handle paying the bills in exchange for allowing a TV in the bedroom…mawahahahahaha

  2. Since I moved to Spain I’ve adopted their way of living.
    Here guarantee means nothing, there’s only 1 store that has a half decent policy, the rest you would have to deal with the manufacturer directly, and to do that you have to make sure you have saved the box and every single piece of wrapping that was in the box when you bought.
    Whenever I buy something I pray to all sacred animals that it doesn’t break and if it does, well, you cry yourself to sleep.

  3. My friend dated a guy that she “just loved” and wanted me to meet. He was a millionaire so we met at a very nice restaurant. Over dinner he tells me that he owns an extended warranty service for car repair. Then proudly proclaimed how long it had been since he’d honored a claim.
    I looked at my friend and said “You like this cocksucker? Good fucking luck.” And left the restaurant.
    She found out two weeks later that he’d been married for 18 years and she was girlfriend #2.

  4. I think you owe me 10 points –

    I bought one of those warrantees on a new fridge – they were supposed to cover any repairs and replace any spoiled food – sounds good until you have to get them receipts for all that rot.

  5. I bought an extended service plan from the retailer on my laptop. Then the baby dropped it, so I took it in, and they said it wasn’t covered. This was annoying, as it was the exact sort of thing they’d given me the impression WAS covered. Fortunately, my university has a computer tech shop who were willing to look at it. The internal connection between the screen and computer had jarred loose, took about thirty seconds for them to identify and fix the problem.
    If I go on a holiday baking binge, I’m totally taking those guys cookies.

  6. My husband is the proud owner of the accordion folder. Sometimes, when he really pisses me off, I move things around– you know, put the “b’s” in the “p’s”– and I move the accordion folder so that he KNOWS someone’s been screwing with it. It’s fun, fucking with his OCD.

  7. Shhh great stuff my sister! You forgetting the orange handled scissors under the Christmas lights…you know the ones you use to trim the kids hair, cut the matted fur from the dogs butt, and cut the pizza. Also don’t forget to mention that you are the owner of super human teeth that have never seen a cavity and can open a bottle in 2.4 seconds. Two fun fulks

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