Another Letter to Dairy Queen Corporate

Dear Dairy Queen,

Because of a severe glandular condition, my wife suffers from post-morbid obesity. For the past couple of years she’s been all but bedridden, as her weight rocketed beyond 600 pounds. Doctors have tried a variety of treatments and drugs, in an attempt to tame her runaway gland, but so far nothing has worked.

Dairy Queen, it breaks my heart to see my beautiful Shirley incapacitated and unable to participate in family activities, just a ’round-the-clock prisoner of our mattress and the salty offerings of the Frito-Lay Corporation.

During a recent snowstorm we were trapped inside our house for several days. The panel truck I use to haul Shirley back and forth to the beauty shop was buried past the axles, and it wasn’t going anywhere. Our son’s 1989 Plymouth Sundance often doesn’t start in the best of weather.

We were stranded.

Predictably, the food didn’t last. We’d begun with a full cupboard, but the stress of our situation apparently acted as a “gland accelerator” and my wife ripped through our stockpile in short order. Including a large box of Clabber Girl baking powder, which Shirley ate dry with a spoon.

We’d found ourselves in a similar situation during the big Tayback blizzard of ’04, but during that earlier storm we’d been able to keep Shirley fed with the scraps of food we found hidden in her folds.

Her neck fat alone had yielded almost an entire package of Nabisco cheese crackers. But this time around she was one step ahead of us, and had already scavenged her riffles by the time we got there.

I thought about our son’s teeth, he’s not the most hygienic person you’ll ever meet, but there wasn’t as much food stuck to them as I’d guessed. Shirley finished that off with a single flick of her great tongue, and it did little to appease her rampaging gland.

By the end of day two we were completely out of food, and my wife’s blood sugar was plummeting. It was a real emergency!

I tried to free the truck, but it wasn’t budging. The Sundance caught fire when I started the engine, and I began to panic. What could we do?! Shirley, by this time, was in a bad way, thrashing around in her bedclothes and screaming obscenities.

Then I thought of Dairy Queen! The employees there had always been so friendly and kind, and I was sure they’d come through for us if I explained our predicament.

And did they ever! Jerry Hill, the assistant manager of store #473, answered on the second ring, and his genuine warm-heartedness worked its way through the phone lines. He told me not to worry, and assured me that help was on the way.

I’m not ashamed to admit I cried.

And true to his word, a 4-wheel drive vehicle came cutting through the all-but-impassable snow 45 minutes later. I was still wiping away the tears of relief when Mr. Hill and one of his cheerful employees emerged from the SUV, each carrying a large box in his arms.

Not only did they bring an amazing array of products, including a dozen Dilly bars – Shirley’s favorite – but they personally administered the treatment, expertly and with much human kindness.

Thank you Dairy Queen! Because of wonderful employees like Jerry Hill, and your topnotch lineup of great-tasting food and tempting treats, you’ll always be tops in my book!

Sincerely,

Walter

An earlier letter to DQ