Dear Nestle,
Let me begin by giving you a little background.
My love affair for the Kit Kat bar goes back to my childhood. Every time my grandmother came to visit she would bring me a Kit Kat and a dollar bill, sneaking them both into my pocket like it was our little secret. They have a delicious hold on my heart. Of course, one could argue that I’ve become conditioned to love Kit Kats, much like Pavlov’s dog salivated over that stupid bell. But that’s not the case. If it were, I’d crave a wine cooler every time I smelled patchouli and sat on a couch with questionable stains. But that’s another story.
So last week, when I performed my daily Kit Kat eating ritual, this happened:
I unwrapped my Kit Kat Bar
I broke the bars into sections so that I could savor each one individually.
I acknowledged the bar and thanked it for its sacrifice (I learned that from my studies of the American Indian)
I sang the song “Give me a break, give me a break, break me off a piece of that Kit Kat bar!”
I bit into the bar…but whaaaat??? No “snap” happened! NO. SNAP. HAPPENED.
Suddenly, questions were swirling around my head
Why didn’t I hear a crunch? Where’s my cookie wafer? What’s my purpose in life? Why does my dog always crap on my area rugs and never the hardwood floor?
In an attempt to avoid the dramatic, I’ll just say that everything I knew to be good and true in the world came crashing down the moment I bit into that soulless chocolate stick. Everyone knows that the cookie wafer is the heart of the Kit Kat bar and the crunch is the heart’s beating.
What shenanigans are going on up there?
Nestle, please explain how, in today’s world of quality control, a travesty of this nature could have happened. Nothing in life is certain anymore.
I was forced to drink my Cabernet wine (from the Napa region) with a chocolate chip…a chocolate stinking chip. The reality of it all made me cry. I cried for my grandmother, for my childhood memories, for my wine glass that shattered into a thousand tiny pieces when I screamed “NOOOOO!”. Shattered like my heart…like my heart, Nestle.
If, and I said “IF”, I can go back to Kit Kats, do you promise me this won’t happen again? If so, please tell me the precautions you are taking to ensure this. Just like anyone in a relationship with an inanimate object, I need to feel safe. Nestle, make me feel safe again. “Give me a break”.
Sincerely,
Kim S
