Attention: Complaints Department

Dear Manager of Idiots Petco,

I was in your store last week with my 4 year old daughter, R. You see, she has taken a liking to the baby fish that are in my son's Pre-K classroom. She likes to visit them on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, just to say hi. I decided that maybe I should buy her some fishes of her own so she could see them everyday. I also thought it a good idea to get some for her brothers because you can't buy for one and not the others.

After she said goodbye to the baby fishes as we dropped her brother off at school, we headed off to see what you had to offer. And let me say now, it wasn't much.

I did find the mini aquariums that I wanted. And there were 3 of the 1.5 gallon tanks. Perfect. We grabbed some gravel; blue and green, rainbow, and hot pink. Check. We picked up a few other little accessories. 3 of each, to be completely fair.

Now, to pick out some fish. I must say I wasn't thrilled with the selection, but this was going to be for young kids. They didn't care what kind of fish, they just wanted their own pets to love.

I let my daughter choose the ones she liked. She pointed at a tank filled with rainbow colored guppies. Great....now to find someone to help me.

Seems that's a big problem in your store. As I searched around for an employee, it came to me. Even though I had been in the fish department quite a while, not one person asked if I needed help. Did anyone work there? I know you didn't have many customers, but there had to be more than just the dead animal on his head wearing toupee wearing gentleman working at the checkout.

I looked around some corners. Ahhh Haaa! I found the guy. "Excuse me, could you help me get some fish?" I asked.

"Hold on, I'll be right back," he responded. I nodded, maybe he was helping someone else. A few minutes later he did, indeed, walk by with two bags of fish. Then he disappeared.

R. and I continued to look at the fish. She was beginning to get antsy to leave. So was I. 10 minutes later, still no sign of the guy. Now, had I been alone, I would have abandoned my full cart and left the store. But R. would have freaked. She was too excited.

I looked around for the guy, as I grew increasingly annoyed. I saw three men standing, huddled, near an office door. Suddenly one turned towards me, a large neanderthal man headed my way. I thought to myself, "Finally!"

I saw on your name tag that you were the manager, though I missed your name because you proceeded to walk right past me.

"Um, excuse me?" I asked. "Can someone help me with the fish?"

In a very nasty tone you replied, "He's coming. He didn't forget about you. He cut his finger." You kept walking.

He cut his finger? On what? A dorsal fin?

And what about you? Are you unable to catch fish? Is it some sort of disability? Or just not in your job description?

The guy finally fixed his boo-boo and came over. I told him that I needed 15 fish and 3 snails. He went to work on catching the guppies with his trusty net. He kind of reminded me of Patrick Star from Spongebob.

OH.MY.GOD! I don't know if it was the guy's first day and he wasn't quite experienced with the ways of the net or it was his coke-bottle glasses that were throwing off his depth perception. I thought I would die of old age in that store! And then the moron guy dropped one of the poor creatures on the floor. He pinched at it numerous times, probably gouging it's sides with his fingernails, before he was able to pick it up.

And do you know what he did? He put that one in the bunch for me to buy! OH.YES.HE.DID! I told him to get rid of it.

When my torture was over, I paid and left. I went home and my daughter and I set up the tanks. The time to place the fish in their new homes arrived and I opened the bag that the guy had given me.

4 were swimming on their backs. Are you kidding me? I divided the remainder of the fish between the tanks and the kids began naming their new charges.

Minutes ticked by. I kept checking the tanks, as I was quite uneasy with how some of the fish looked. One by one my son T.'s fish started to go belly up. I can't even begin to describe to you the tears that flowed. Just know you should be ashamed of yourself.

By the next morning we had 2 fish left. I began to think I did something wrong, that I was to blame.

My husband and I packed up our kids and went to your competition. Yes, that's right, we went to PetSmart. I should have gone there in the first place. I usually do, I just happened to be in your neck of the woods the day before and I wanted to save gas in my van. My mistake.

We purchased 15 new fish. It is now a week later and they are thriving, buddy! THRIVING! I even think one or two are pregnant, so my daughter will be getting her babies after all. No thanks to you!

In case you haven't gotten the gist of this letter, I want a refund. Just so you know, I will be including a copy of my receipt. I would be including the dead fish too, whose death toll has risen to 15, but my children felt the need to give them a burial at sea. I couldn't deny them that. And honestly, I don't think the post office would deliver something that smelly.


Mrs. Schmitty

P.S. And a refund means cash, no store credit please, as I won't be stepping foot in your store again.