I’ve heard horror stories of airlines losing peoples’ baggage but I’ve never suffered at the hands of such evil entities. Until this summer. The summer of sadness. The summer Thomas Cook crushed me. And they didn’t even have the decency to reply to my heartfelt email. They didn’t show an ounce of compassion or sympathy to my cause. Maybe my proposed compensation payment was a little too high, but a sorry wouldn’t have gone a miss. I’m flying with RyanAir next time, I hear he values his customers far more than that bell end Thomas.
From: Jordan Harris
Subject: Lost fishing rod (URGENT)
Hello Mr Cook or would you prefer Thomas? I’ll call you Tom. Hello Tom,
How are you? Thanks for recently flying me to and from Zante or Zakynthos as the locals call it. I don’t know why though, you can’t polish a turd by giving it an exotic name. Everyone still knows it as Zante, a haven for clubbing, underage drinking and sexual escapades. It’s like Staines changing their name to Staines-Upon-Thames. Everyone still knows it as Ali G’s hometown regardless of a new posh name. So yeh, thanks for the flight (despite minimal leg room) but I am definitely not thankful with what happened to my bag on the return flight. You probably think it got lost in transit and ended up in some far flung country like Belgium, but oh no, it suffered a much worse plight.
Let me set the scene Tommy my boy. I’m on the beach, we’ve rented a boat for the day, we’ve packed goodies and treats to last us all day (27 litres of water, a large melon slice, 3 loaves of bread and a pot of nutella if you were wondering), but what’s missing Tom? Oh yeh. You got it! A fishing rod! Panic sets in. We are just about to raise anchor when I spy a quaint little bamboo rod in a shop on shore so I purchase it and hop back in the boat. Phew, that was close. We continue to make our way to a secluded spot and I cast my line. Queue the first two attachments.
Oh look, it’s me. Fishing. And yes I have been working out thanks for noticing Tom. Look at me T, I’m happy as Larry (I don’t know who Larry is or why he is so damned happy all the time by the way). After a while I get bored (I’ve the attention span of a fly) so I leave the line in the water and go play. I look back with great joy to see my rod bending. Every fisherman’s dream (I could insert a ‘bent rod’ joke being my dream but I feel humour will distract you from the seriousness of my grievance). Fish on boys! Now open the 3rd and 4th attachments and marvel in my glory. Look at that beauty. A baby Great White. Look how happy I am!
So Tom, back to business. Remember that smile I had upon reeling in such a monster of the depths? Well it was wiped off my face when my bag rolled around on the carousel with my rod tied to the outside (now I guide you to the final attachment which shows my sadness).
It’s a 3-piece rod so was easily unassembled and attached to my case. I picked up my bag and my world came crashing down around me when I noticed there was only 2 pieces left. What makes it worse was the fact it was the tip that was missing. If the handle was missing I could easily manage with a shorter rod, but because it was the end, I have nowhere to tie the line. It’s utterly useless. Just some crappy bamboo stick. What the heck am I going to do with that? It’s too short to support the growth of a sunflower. Maybe a juvenile but not a fully grown one. It’s far too flimsy to be used as a walking stick and I have no slaves to beat with it if they slack and therefore it has no use to me whatsoever.
I even told the check in lady to be extra careful with it. She smiled which I interpreted as a sign of reassurance. In retrospect it is now obvious she was a wicked woman and knew this would happen. So somewhere between Zante and London you lost a piece of my rod. Perhaps one of your employees fancied it for themselves as a mini rod. Or perhaps they are reckless workers and do not pay attention to other people’s belongings for which they are paid to properly put on the plane. Perhaps it is still in the plane. I do not know which is the case, but one thing I am sure of; I can no longer fish with my beloved bamboo rod.
So why write to you Tommy C? Because I want justice. Compensation for my loss. Okay so let’s do some maths. The rod cost 3 euros. There were 3 pieces (and I put great emphasis on the past tense of WERE and not ARE). So each piece cost 1 euro (3 euros divided by 3=1 euro). As you lost 1 piece, you owe me 1 euro. But then it starts getting complicated. For one, if you send me that 1 euro, I will then have to fly back to Zante and try to persuade the shop vendor to sell me 1/3 of one of her other rods, which she is unlikely to do because then that rod will be without a tip. Thus I will have to buy a completely new rod, so that’s a further 2 euros you owe me on top of the 1 euro so I can pay the 3 euros for a rod. Oh and don’t forget to add on flights to and from Zante. If you are unprepared to pay this compensation there is an alternative. You see, I can never use that fishing rod ever again. Therefore I will never experience the same joy that I felt that day on the ocean blue. It’s hard to attach a monetary value on my happiness but I feel it is somewhere in the region of £1000. So you either owe me flights to and from Zante as well as 3 euros for the rod or you can just give me the £1000 to make up for my loss of happiness as I have slipped down the dark slope of depression due to not being able to fish. So which will it be Tom? The choice is yours.
I hope you understand the pain you have caused and I look forward to hearing from you Tom.