Demand an Explanation!!!
Greetings, pissed-off consumers. It is I, the great Shopping Avenger, who has toiled without pause this past month (all right, I paused) to right the wrongs inflicted on the buying masses by the dark forces of turbocharged capitalism.
Before writing the first installment of this column last month, the Shopping Avenger had no idea that so many people would have so many complaints about so many different companies. The Shopping Avenger also had no idea so many people read Slate. The complaints, as Alan Simpson would say, have come pouring in over the transom. I received somewhere around 2.7 million e-mails from Slate readers asking for help in the battle against poor customer service. Perhaps it was fewer than 2.7 million, but not by much.
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Diary: Jeffrey Goldberg
Posted Monday, March 8, 1999, at 7:00 PM ET
I don't want to create the impression that I'm paranoid, but big black helicopters are circling my house as I write this. This is not an unusual occurrence. I don't mean writing--which, these days, is highly unusual--but the big black helicopters.
When I covered night cops at the Washington Post, my colleagues and I, in the interest of reportorial efficiency, divided the city into two sectors. D.C. residents either lived on quiet, tree-lined streets or on trash-strewn, drug-infested streets. There was no such thing, in the night-cop playbook, as a quiet, drug-infested neighborhood, or a tree-lined, trash-strewn neighborhood.
But when we moved to American University Park (Motto: "A Second-Tier Neighborhood for a Third-Tier University") a couple of years ago, I realized that there is such a thing in D.C. as a national security neighborhood. These neighborhoods are tree-lined and decisively un-trash-strewn, but they are not quiet, on account of the black helicopters.
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Prisoners
