Dear Sir / Madam,

I realise that everybody is complaining in this country and nothing ever comes from it, other than the ability to vent, but I really must complain vehemently at your decision to clean your supermarket one hour before it’s due to close. The reason for this follows suite :
There is a cleaner that you employ that seems to take great pleasure from hitting me around the legs with her mop while shouting ‘Go away! Go away! I want to finish! You’re making everything dirty again!’ She follows me around the store with her cleaning utensils like I’m a cow.
Please know that I am not a cow. If you could tell this to your cleaner, I would be highly grateful.

Last night, things came to a climax. My friend and I were looking at the cheese display. Your cleaner came running along sweeping so fast and so intent on knocking our legs away, screaming ‘it’s getting dirty, it’s getting dirty!’ that my friend chose a slice of cheese in a hurry. It turns out that it was the most expensive slice of cheese available. It was not the price per kilo but per slice. I understand that this may be a business plan. A very clever one at that, but let me assure you that we will take our business elsewhere to dirtier stores if it means to save our legs and our cheese money.
We like our legs very much. Cheese too.
And this city is impossible to move around in within a wheelchair. This is not your fault. I’ll write another complain letter for this to the Sofia office. If there is one. Which I doubt.
Thank you for your time, if this letter arrives. If not, I’ll write another to the post office.

Sincerely,
A marathon runner.