Dear marketing executives of The Store,

I've spent the last eight days wearing down the ends of my fingers. When I scratch my ear, I think I can feel a little bit of the bone. I had no idea a keyboard could do so much damage.

It must be a big day for you, having verbally crushed the work and spirits of a young copywriter. In spite my history [1][2][3][4] with you and the fact that I should have known better, I worked day and night to produce groundbreaking work for your holiday campaign. My favorite part of the conference call was when you chose one line from each of the four scripts and used it to tear the entire spot apart, ranting and raving for the better part of an hour.

You must feel like big shots, knowing that I have no choice but to keep working through the weekend to meet your insanely short production deadline.

I hope you enjoy the pending spots. They will most likely be ignored and/or mocked by your target market, but they will be everything that you asked for. Like all of the world’s worst advertising, they will say a lot without delivering any meaningful message.

Hoping The Store has a great holiday season,
robert

p.s. That last line was sarcasm, by the way. I hope that sales plummet, The Store has to declare bankruptcy and that you both are unable to find meaningful work for the rest of your miserable lives. Or at least six months.
p.p.s. You make me want to drink two to seven bottles of NyQuil and kill bunnies.