Dear Bed Bath & Beyond Email Marketing Department

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Bed Bath & Beyond
650 Liberty Avenue
Union, NJ 07083

13 October 2016

To whom it may concern,

I recently signed up for your mailing list despite making it nearly three decades without having done so. I was shopping for an immersion blender and was notified that I would receive a discount if I went to your website and entered my email to receive regular emails. I wasn’t sure of what the discount entailed, but if I can save money on something as frivolous as an immersion blender, I was all about it.

Since signing up for your mailing list just two months ago, I have received exactly 63 emails. Just today, I received an email with the subject line, “2 HOT deals inside + your 20% offer!” Upon reluctantly clicking into the email, I realized that “HOT” was a play on words because you were, in fact, attempting to sell me the same shitty Keurig machine that we have in our office that I visit twice per day to enjoy a piping hot cup of processed coffee. You refer to this “deal” as a “Manufacturer’s Savings Event” where I not only receive $20 off, but I also receive a $15 gift card to your store. I’d ask if I could use that $15 gift card on the same $119.99 Keurig machine you’re promoting to me, but I’m sure you’d send me from the checkout line to the customer service counter where I’d eventually be denied and sent back to the checkout counter 25 minutes later. In addition, you also offer the “in-store only” FREE storage carousel for the Keurig cartridges for people who want to put their plastic waste on display on their kitchen counters. It’s valid through 11/23, and I couldn’t be running to your store fast enough.

But I’m not here to talk about Keurigs. I’m here to talk about the sheer volume of emails that you manage to send me on a daily basis. Earlier, I said that I have received 63 emails in two months. On September 29th, I received an email that said, “Claim your 20% offer.” On October 4th, I received yet another email that said, “Claim your 20% offer.” And on October 6th, I received an email that read, “Reminder, your 20% offer is still waiting.” For the sake of being frank here, Bed Bath & Beyond, I need to tell you something: I clearly don’t fucking want your 20% off fucking offer. I know you’re “giving me ways to save” and these are allegedly the “savings I’ve been craving” but some cravings never get satiated.

I’d say that “it’s not you, it’s me,” but it’s definitely fucking you. I don’t have the time or zest for life to look elsewhere for anything involving my bed, my bath, or my beyond. You’re it. You’re that 34-year-old girl’s boyfriend who she kind of hates but it’s too late in her life for her to break up with him so she’ll inevitably marry him before her friends that got married in their twenties go on to their second marriages. I don’t have any other options at this point because I simply don’t care enough to go find other options. You’re serviceable, and that’s enough. But the more you keep emailing me, the more I feel like you’re the naggy girl who texts sentences word. by. word. without pressing “space” and instead pressing “Send” so I get nine text messages instead of one coherent sentence. It’s too much, and if it continues, I’m going to have to draw the line.

Last week, I decided to take a big step in my life. I went to the bottom of the email and clicked “Update your email preferences.” There were a lot of options and I truly believed that I had fully unsubscribed from your newsletter. But when I woke up the next morning, I found out that I’d been Costanza’d. There you were, sitting at your desk again after I had fired you. And there I was again, sitting at my desk staring another “20% offer” in the eyes. I did the only thing I knew how to do – I dragged it to the trash and went about my day.

Please, just save us all a little and reduce the frequency of your emails before I throw my office’s $119.99 Keurig machine threw our kitchen’s window.

Sincerely,
A Concerned Subscriber .

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Will

Will (Twitter / Instagram) is the host of The Sunday Scaries Podcast.

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