A viral facebook thing. The Warehouse is our version of Kmart or whatever, cheap bargains. Red buildings...the Red Shed, rearrange letters - the Wharehouse...househouse. Anyway, this is Emily, she wants a dryer. Long, but worth it. Pity about the sensoring.
Dear The Warehouse,
I need you to know that you've hurt me. You've hurt me deeply. I thought I couldn't be hurt this way but it turns out I can.
You see, let me start at the beginning. I was born on 11 June, 1985. I was a six pound nine baby, the same weight as my first born. I was a happy baby.
But even then I yearned.
I yearned for something more from my life.
The Warehouse, I yearned for a dryer.
As the years went on my longing for a dryer never left me.
When I moved in with my husband at 17 he said we could live without a dryer because his mum said there's no way we could take her dryer.
Even then, I knew my life would never be complete without a dryer.
How the time passed, winter into spring and other seasons into other ones. The painful passage of time continued unabated. And I lived, barely, without a dryer.
I had periods with a dryer, when we moved in with people who weren't as cheap as us, but it never lasted long. Because we had an incontinent dog.
We had an incontinent dog but we did not have a dyer.
I would come inside you The Warehouse. And I would look at your beautiful dyers. So sleek. So good at drying things.
But I did not have the money my dear The Warehouse. I was not rich enough to own the most highest of status items - the dryer.
People would say to me: How can you live without a dyer? In Wellington? And I would think: Well, Auckland sucks balls because it's full of traffic so don't you dare [censored] use that tone of voice on my city, where you can get to the airport in 15 minutes no matter where you live.
I would sigh, I didn't know how to say - I desire a dyer more than I desire a movie about Jason Momoa's actor sister dying in a car accident and then suddenly he's a dad to five and he has to raise them and he becomes really good friends with another dad at the school Mark Ruffalo who adopted the set of twins he found on his doorstep one dark and stormy night and over a dinner of macaroni and cheese, after a year of supporting each other, they both reach for the Parmesan cheese and their fingers touch and Jason Momoa just wipes his hand across the table, knocking everything on the floor and Mark Ruffalo says "What are you doing?" and Jason Momoa says: "Mark Ruffalo you know exactly what I'm doing" and he kisses him passionately and they make out on the dinner table. I desire a dryer more than I desire that perfect movie. Alexander Skarsgard could be an uptight business man whose wife leaves him because he's a [censored] father and she moves to Spain and he has to raise the triplets on his own but it turns out he loves being a dad as much as he loves not wearing a shirt and he appreciates his wife now and he misses her. And she comes back from Spain and her name is Emily and I slept the whole time I was in Spain and when I wasn't sleeping I was being made amazing three course meals by Jeff Goldblum.
I want a dryer more than that fantasy The Warehouse.
As the years continued to just go on and on in a relentless and never ending cycle of months I lived a half life without a dryer.
I collected children and clothes horses.
There was so much washing The Warehouse.
I feel like you don't know how much washing there was The Warehouse. There was so much.
And still my husband said we can't afford a dryer. And finally, you know what - I saw your sale for a dyer for $299 and I said: I'm doing it. I am putting it on the credit card.
At 32 I bought a dyer.
And The Warehouse, I was so happy. I was so happy I almost cried.
I was happier than my wedding day and the birth of my children.
I imagined setting fire to the clothes horses.
Nothing could break my mood.
I got a call from you The Warehouse.
You said you didn't have the dryer in stock - but how? I went into the store and I saw it with my own eyes.
Was I hallucinating with joy?
You said you'd deliver it and I said I'd pick it up from anywhere.
You said I couldn't pick it up.
I am Ryan Gosling and the dryer is Rachel McAdams in The Notebook.
There's nothing I won't do to be with my dryer.
But you promised it would be delivered and it would be fine.
But it's not is it The Warehouse?
It's not fine.
Because do I have my dryer?
No, I do not have my dryer.
In the words of Celine Dion: Every night in my dreams, I see my dryer, I feel it.
Far across the distance, and spaces between us...I know my dyer is near, far, wherever you are.
Please give me my dryer.
I paid for it in store.
I need it.
I've waited 32 years.
I will carry it on my back.
I have carried it in my heart for this long.
Please give me my dryer.
And here is their reply...
Your story is the greatest story of all time.
You see, when we got started in 1982, the first three years of our life were like practice. We were getting ready for your eventual birth. Somehow, deep down in the reddest and warmest part of our collective heart, we were waiting for you to come to us for a dryer. Even Sir Stephen Tindall probably definitely maybe possibly knew, deep down, that it was in your destiny to find the dryer of your dreams here with us at The Warehouse.
So we went into training. We started opening stores all over the place, serving New Zealanders with passion and pride, with power and precision, learning the fine art of the bargain and the joy of making desirable the affordable.
Is it a coincidence that if you rearrange the letters in dryer (then remove some, then add some others) you get desirable?
We don’t think so.
Because it was the 1980s, we had a TRAINING MONTAGE. But it’s 2018 now, so it’s been updated to an emoji training montage:
So, Emily Writes, after 36 years in business, we were ready for you. Our dryer was ready for you.
YOUR dryer was ready for you.
Except that it wasn’t, was it? If your hopes were the Titanic, guaranteed unsinkable, then we were the iceberg. Maybe we were too excited, maybe we overtrained. Whatever happened, it didn’t result in a dryer coming to your home and your clothes horses being sent to the clothes glue factory, or the clothes knackers yard, or whatever happens to clothes horses when they’re no longer required. We guess they’re recyclable horses.
This monumental messup is our burden to bear like a nicely-pressed shirt that lets in a lot of light and is very thin but is somehow too heavy for Alexander Skarsgard’s body. We need to do the right thing and take that shirt off.
So here’s the plan: Please send us a direct message, because we’ll need to talk over some details with you. One detail that we’ll be really happy to tell you upfront is that your dryer won’t cost you a cent. Not a single cent. We’re giving you a fine Ruffalo… sorry, we mean a full refund.
You’ve carried your dryer in your heart for so long, and we’ve let you down right when you needed us the most, so we’re going to make sure your dryer that belongs to you, Emily Writes of Wellington and definitely not of Auckland, lives in your laundry room as well as in your heart.
As you will live in ours.
With love and laundry,