In composing these letters, I often portray an exaggerated or even outright false exuberance for the company I'm writing to (waxing odes to Olive Garden forthcoming). Clearly, I'm not a raving fanboy of every place I reach out to. However, if there is one institution for which my love is genuine, it is Chipotle.
Chipotle was one of the first companies I wrote to, precisely because I am such a raving fanboy. And while it was titillating to get their reply (with a free burrito to boot), I had no plans to pepper them with further solicitations. As with all letters, it was a hot, steamy one-time fling.
But then the E. coli fiasco happened, and shortly after norovirus was all like "Hey look at me I can be a little bitch too!" It is perhaps indicative of my sociopathic leanings that my heart ached more for Chipotle than the victims (hey, they got better). I felt compelled to reach out to my beloved burrito factory. And so, truly without agenda, I sent the following.
Their response was overwhelming to say the least.
On top of this deeply touching reply (and I mean DEEPLY—as with all Chipotle experiences, I felt it warmly in my colon), they sent a plethora of loot.
God bless ye, Chipotle, you magnificent purveyor of unadulterated belly-bliss.