Wednesday, March 28
Die, Capital One, die. I can't take it any more. In today's oversized envelopes—just two today, one addressed to my business, one to a misspelled version of my business—they'd put the usual offers but instead of the goddamn fake credit card they put a sheet of bubble wrap. It wasn't protecting anything, it was just there because Capital One are evil scumbags and want to make it more difficult for us to shred and recycle their constant junk mail. I despise them. I called to complain and the useless fuck on the phone wanted to go through every name and misspelling that gets mail at this adddress. I think I eventually got it across to him that I wanted no more mail whatsoever at this address. I may have neglected to mention the apartment number, though. You're welcome, neighbors.
6:22 PM
