We had a good run, I’ll never forget the good times. Remember when we started? 3 Blu-rays out at a time – it was bliss. Your return disc turnover was a day, two at the most. I sung your praises, told everyone about your impressive library and no late fees. The honeymoon period lasted for months and I was content. Joyous, really.
There was a time when I’d suggest a movie for you to add to the collection and you’d oblige. Then one day, I guess I just stopped being important to you. Every suggestion I made you ignored. Then you started to remove titles from my queue. Sure, you assured me they were just going to my ‘reserved’ queue, but I knew they weren’t coming back. Guess I should be grateful you cared enough to lie.
The rot started to set in when the turnaround dragged from 2 days to 3, to 4, to over a week. You were so busy trying to impress your ‘streaming customers’ you forgot all about the post. I waited by my mailbox as the days dragged on, not knowing if you’d even received my returned movies. Sometimes you’d even email me to tell me you got my movie – but said nothing about sending me a new one. It’s send AND receive! The very contract our relationship was founded on!
Then you changed your envelopes, to new ones with the most ineffective adhesive imaginable. Why? To lose more of my movies and blame it on Australia Post? Were you just messing with me? And then you altered your careful queue structure, so every new title would go straight to the top, completely derailing the priority system! Why?
We started fighting a lot around this time. Like that time you sent me Disc 1 of 2 of a movie, and then claimed Disc 2 didn’t exist. That one hurt. Or when you decided to re-brand the ‘unavailable’ titles as ‘streaming-only’. I almost fell back in love then and there, only to discover that all those titles were not in your streaming catalogue, and probably never would be. And still the time between each movie grew longer, and each month you gave me less and less, but I still kept paying you the same amount.
Of course when I tried to tell you it was over, you offered me a better deal, swore that you’d change and you could still serve me. But I’d already been hurt too many times.
So please, don’t contact me anymore. I don’t want one of your sweet red valentines in my mail box (not a euphemism) ever again. It’s over.
But we’ll always have Paris, Texas…