Imagine my husband's surprise when he eagerly opened a package of Velveeta ~ the Pasteurized Processed Cheese Product that has literally sustained his life during the "dry spells" when his behavior or attitude has not resulted in the loving home-cooked meal that he's grown so accustomed to ~ and found this...

My husband nearly fainted! He had to lean on the counter and fan himself as the magnitude of the situation sunk in - he had been cheated out of at least TWO microwave cheese sandwiches and even more of those huge chunks that he grabs off the usual 2 lb block and tosses greedily into his mouth on his way past the refrigerator.  How he can manage to ingest it without a tall glass of milk or other liquid to ease its descent into the stomach is a mystery for sure, but that's another story.

Now, I call it "cheese" purely out of love and respect for my husband. It’s much easier for him than constantly having to figure out what I mean when I say, "that disgusting yellow stuff that resembles a food but isn’t and surely would kill a person if it were the staple of one’s diet"… It’s easier than the usual description which I’m sure goes into his head as "that disgusting…" only to have his mind quickly convert it simply to the the "mwaaa, mwaaa, mwaaa" sound that Snoopy makes when talking to Charlie Brown.

It’s easier for ME to call it "cheese" too. That way, I’m not met with the predictable blank stare as I see him searching his mind for anything he eats that might resemble a "non-food product" fitting my colorful description. I’m ever amazed that his mind, while searching, will just squirrel past the Velveeta, ruling it out as a possibility that might fit the description I just put forth.

Anyway, after the initial shock, my husband turned to me and said, "Roxanne, you should take a picture of this and send it to them!". I dutifully got out the digital camera and took many angles of the offensive air bubble that violated his precious block of "cheese". Pleased, he went about finishing his "dinner" resting in the knowledge that I would make the appropriate individuals aware of the atrocity, that his block of "ruined" Velveeta would be vindicated and he WOULD get a replacement block of "cheese"!

So today, I called the Kraft Customer Service number listed on the side of the box. A cheery young representative answered and asked how she could help me. I explained the situation to her and she agreed that a replacement coupon was in order. So she set about asking me a series of questions…

Her: "Ma’am, is this your first purchase of Velveeta Cheese?"

Me: ::stifling a laugh:: "Lord no, honey! My husband would have starved to death by now if it weren’t for your…"   :: awkward pause::    "ch… ch… "cheese"!  ::said as nicely as possible so that she wouldn't hear my revulsion referring to that slop as "cheese"  and perhaps jeopardize my coupon

Her: ::chuckling:: "Could you describe the air bubble to me?"

Me: "Ok, well it’s about 5" long and about 1" wide at the widest part… I took a picture, would you like me to send that to you?"

Her: "You took a picture?!" ::said in a tone of voice that leads me to believe that she’d be getting off the phone and saying to her co-workers "yessir, we just had ANOTHER ONE"… and laughing till she snorts while trying to tell them how I offered to send her a picture of the air-bubbled "cheese":: 

Me: "Um, yes… I… I… Nevermind. So, you’ll send out the coupon right away?"

Her: ::keeping her composure but with audible delight in my silly offer:: "Yes, Ma’am, you’ll have that in a week or two."

Me: "Great! ::then in a low mumble:: My husband might need it…"

Her: "I’m sorry, Ma’am, did you say something else?"

Me: ::weakly:: "I was just saying Thank You."

Her: "Ok, you have a great day, Ma’am! And thank you for calling Kraft… ::trailing off as I hung up::

So, my husband will be getting a replacement coupon for his beloved Pasteurized Processed Cheese Product . Too bad it didn’t arrive yesterday, I could have wrapped it up and given it to him for a birthday present.