The Last Frontier

Dear Frontier Airlines:

How are you? I am fine, and hope you are the same. I just wanted to alert you to something: You are kicking my ass. Quite frankly, if it were at all possible, I would never fly on your airline again, no matter what kind of cute animal with an adorable name is on the tail of the plane.

While I’m not Steve Jobs, I am familiar with online shopping and other activities. You know, activities like making airline reservations. After all, Amazon and I are in a fully committed relationship. If I’m looking for a package of safety pins, I order them from Amazon. In fact, if I’m not sure what kind of safety pins I want or how many I should order, I can peruse Amazon’s website without tearing out my hair and easily make a decision.

Here’s the thing, Frontier Airlines. All I want to do is make airline ticket reservations for Bill and I to fly to see our grandsons and their mothers in Vermont. Oh, and I want to use Bill’s frequent flyer miles. You see, over the years, he accumulated many miles faithfully using your crappy credit card, just as you urged us to do. Seventy-seven thousand miles, in fact. But when I went on your website, it turns out that you charge a premium to use miles to fly to Burlington, VT, and back to Denver. In fact, you require 40,000 miles for each of us for a round trip. Plus some extra cashola out of our pockets.

Now, I understand and support the fact that you can require us to use as many miles as you deem fit. There probably aren’t people falling over each other to get to Burlington, VT, though they would be if they could see how cute our grandsons are. See…..

Anyhoo, the problem — at least in part — is that, see above, Bill only has 77,000 miles. I, however, have an additional 24,000 miles. It seems as though there ought to be a way to combine those without having the mind of Alan Turing. We do, after all, share a bed every night of the week, and consider ourselves family.

And maybe there is a possibility of combining miles. The thing is, you see, your website, well, SUCKS. In fact, I got so frustrated with trying to figure out HOW to figure it out that I stooped to CALLING THE CUSTOMER SUPPORT NUMBER.

Hahahahahahahahaha. As if you could actually get to a human. Sometimes I wonder whether I would be better off saying I speak Spanish, because I am more likely to understand Spanish than I am to get the answer to my question from your website.

“I’m done!” I yelled angrily to Bill. “We’re going to AAA.”

Love, Kris

 

Dear AAA:

I couldn’t possibly love you more. I want to contact Pope Francis to recommend William Holt from the DTC AAA office for sainthood. I was surprised (and secretly pleased) that William seemed to be as confounded by Frontier’s website as I. But he was an actual human that I didn’t have to yell REPRESENTATIVE into the telephone to access. And he was patient and kind and even though he had to type in Bill’s Frontier password somewhere in the neighborhood of 78 times, I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to use it to make plane reservations for he and his entire family to fly to Cancun, Mexico. Plus, I don’t think he’d want to fly Frontier anyway, what with them laying off his father without severance and all. And even if he did, I think he deserves it!

AAA, you are AWESOME.

Love, Kris

2 thoughts on “The Last Frontier

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