I should have known from the beginning.
Your words were empty. Your promises were empty. You made me believe that the more I invested, the more I would gain. I was a fool to have fallen for it.
In the beginning, I was just curious. My friends told me you were around again, and though I had previously avoided you knowing I might be swimming in the deep end, I didn’t stop myself this time. I swam in the deep end and at first, I loved it. Yeah, it embarrasses me to admit it but I was thrilled. I saw potential for us and it brought me hope — the kind of hope that brings one a cheerful, skipping down the street type of happiness.
For a while it was fun. I felt like I was playing a game that I would inevitably win. However, despite this feeling of fun, disappointment started creeping in; it was subtle, unpredictable, unexpected. My optimistic expectations for us began to lose their cheerful, care-free facade. You kept telling me to try and try and try again. Do you not realize how much time, effort and money I put into this? How I made it a point to see you even when it was out of my way? And all you offered in return was a donut. Yes, a DONUT. I don’t even eat donuts.
So that’s why I’m writing this letter to you, Tim Hortons. I will no longer be rolling up the rim. I will no longer be falling for your “more prizes than there are Canadians” or your “thousands of $50 Tim cards up for grabs!” as if I would be one of those chosen ones. Maybe it was my fault for believing I could win, for taking the “you could win” as “you will win.” But whether it was my fault or yours, the end of this story remains the same.
Good bye, roll up the rim.
(This is not a serious story and I will still be buying from Tim Hortons! I just won’t be as optimistic about being a roll-up-the-rim winner ;))
