A letter to Cutter Buck

Dear good people of Cutter Buck,
Once upon a time (we're talking half a decade ago), I purchased a nice golfy jacket for my dad from your company. Since then, I have lived in seven different addresses. Still, you find me. I never asked to be on your mailing list. I didn't update you when I moved from Mississippi to Missouri to Kansas to Washington then finally to Oregon. Still, your catalogs come every two weeks. Absent is a yellow "forwarded address" sticker. Oh no, Cutter Buck, you just find me.

See what's funny, Cutter Buck, is the federal government couldn't find me. Again, long ago, they sent me a letter saying my loans were deferred as I went to graduate school. Little did I know, I had a second loan. The feds insist they tried to reach me, tried to send me bills, but I was *unfindable.* Moving so often does that. Those loans defaulted. After a year of 19.5 percent interest rates (getting out of default is hard), I'm wondering if you, Cutter Buck, could try running the federal government for a bit.

While you're at it, I'm wondering if you could quit sending me catalogs. While I'm sure they're worthwhile for thousands of people, I, Cutter Buck, will never ever (seriously -- as long as I live) buy something from you again. I'm a petite 20something, more likely to buy skinny jeans and striped sweaters than a golf pullover. And I don't buy the same gift twice, so my dad's not getting another Cutter Buck product. I'm not the most environmentally conscious person in the world, but I'm also not the worst. And I feel guilty when I pull your thick catalogs out of my tiny mailbox and deposit them directly into my recycling. I imagine it's hard on my mailman, too, fitting them in there biweekly.

So, to sum up, I have two requests: Please quit mailing me catalogs and please help the federal government learn how to find people so their loans don't default.

Respectfully,
Casey Parks


PS: Oops, I just realized you have an ampersand in your name.