Dear Dairy Queen,
I'm a huge fan of your Blizzards. Chocolate Blizzards with M&Ms to be exact. I've visited countless DQ stores across the continental U.S. and Hawaii. I spent the 6 months leading up to my wedding running at 8.5 on the treadmill dreaming about the many Blizzards I would enjoy on my honeymoon.
That said, you've really let me down lately.
I scooted over to your South Street store one balmy Sunday evening in late May only to be told that the store's chocolate ice cream machine was broken. Although disappointed, I took the news in stride - I assumed some freak accident involving the machine happened earlier that day (who wouldn't?).
Fast forward nearly 5 weeks. I returned to this store on July 2 in the middle of a late-night work break to be told that the machine was still broken (yes, since May 31). After 30 seconds of deep breathing exercises, I posed the following questions to the blatantly uninterested young employees: - Has any maintenance been scheduled? No. - Do lots of people flip out when they're told you have no chocolate ice cream? Not really. - Can you please give me the store manager's or owner's contact information? No, we are not allowed to give that information out. - Isn't it some sort of violation of your franchise agreement to go this long without chocolate ice cream? Blank stares - in fact, the kid at the counter actually turned his back on me at this point.
Since that fateful July 2 night, I have called this DQ store almost once a week (on July 12, July 18 and July 26 if you're asking for dates) and was told every time that the chocolate ice cream machine has STILL not been repaired. What sort of ice cream establishment goes two entire summer months without chocolate ice cream? Is this place raking in so much cash right now that they really don't care if people want chocolate?
If I were the DQ corporation, I wouldn't be happy knowing that the only franchise in Center City Philadelphia was alienating its most loyal customers. I hope Michael Keller, Chief Brand Manager of the DQ corporation, remedies this situation before another crazy 26-year-old lawyer on a Blizzard hunt goes postal.
In the meantime, Franklin Fountain is always happy to take my money.