Dear Best Buy,

Thanks so much for sending me that special Christmas coupon, worth somewhere between $5 and $5000. It’s a brilliant promotion for this season, as it expires on Christmas Eve and requires me to set foot in the store to have a “customer specialist” (is that what they call cashiers today? Is “clerks” passe?) scan the coupon to let me know how much it’s worth.

I ventured off to the local Best Buy store yesterday on my lunch hour to find out what I’d won. The nice man at the door shrugged when I asked him where the nearest “customer specialist” was before pointing me at the cashier.

I waited patiently for the cashier to ring up the person standing there, and then smiled as I showed him the coupon.

“I’m sorry; we can’t scan that. I know it says we can, but we can’t. It’s probably $5.”

So screw you, Best Buy. I didn’t spend it that day. I didn’t give you a dime of my money. I’ll try again another day when I have something specific in mind to buy. I wasn’t going to be tricked into buying something randomly for the thrill of possibly winning money.

But if I DO win the big bucks, I’ll buy a camera — if that 300 pound man isn’t blocking the entire Canon half of the display next time I’m at the store.

Sometimes, I can’t win.

Thanks for your false advertising. Next time, I hope you live up to your word, but I won’t be counting on it.

Sincerely yours,
Me

P.S. Next time I go to pay for something at your store, I’m just going to show you my credit card. The limit on it is good. I have my last credit card bill to prove it. But I won’t let you scan it. You’ll have to buy something from me first.

P.P.S. But getting rid of the mail-in rebates was cool.