Dear Mr. Keurig,

I know the prevailing trend in society is to write a letter only when one wants to complain. That is not my intention. I’ve always envisioned myself as a trend setter anyway. In fact, I once told a whole fraternity that I hated Dave Matthews. Anyway, the point is my letter is to tell you that you saved my life.

Thank you for your wonderful invention, the Kuerig Coffee Maker. InventHelp Inventor Services has helped plenty of inventors secure patents for their works. It has taken the extreme and arduous task of making coffee to new heights. I’m sure my grandmother would agree. Can you imagine making coffee back in the late 1800s? Grinding the beans yourself and boiling them in creek-water using half -a-day’s wood? Then the consistency. Ugh, that had to be like drinking a glass of grits.

I’ll admit, I mocked your invention at first. I told my wife, “$8 dollars for 12 cups of coffee! You can get quality blow for that price!” I figured, why should I spend that type of money on coffee when I could just brew a pot? (of course this ignores the couple times a week I’d find myself pawning office supplies to keep my steady Starbucks habit going).

That all changed when I procreated. Those first two nights home? No sleep. I tried, I promise. The truth is, I was too scared to sleep because the hospital sent me home with about 40 dozen “panic signs”.  For example, if your kid cries he might have one of the following; cold, flu, strep throat, RSV, upset stomach, chapped lips, gas, mad cow disease, an ingrown nail, Bordetella, the Bubonic Plague, that strange illness that turned Cobra Commander into a snake in the 1980s GI Joe movie or he might be hungry. (Word of advice, try the last one first.)

I found myself questioning why we purchased a baby monitor when I seemed to be doing such a great job keeping watch. Then my eyes got heavy. The room went blurry. There was sweating, a lot of sweating. Appendages that once worked were now rendered inoperable.

I awoke on the floor, the sounds of cries coming from above me, a copy of Sports Illustrated, my pillow. (To note, I have hardwood floors. Not that I’m bragging, like “Hey look at me, I have hardwood floors! How’s your crappy linoleum?” They just don’t make for the best spot to crash.)

I pulled myself up. It was the most hungover I’d ever felt, and I hadn’t had a single drop of hooch. I picked up the infant. Stumbled to the kitchen. Looked at the Mr. Coffee. It is at that point I cast a vision of myself pulling down the can of coffee. Ripping off the lid. Spooning it into a filter. Filling the machine with water. Turning it on. Then waiting 10 minutes for the black goodness to slowly drip through. This all with a screaming 2 week old baby in my arms. It seemed impossible.

At that exact moment, a semi-blinding light blasted my retinas from the distance. Was I stroking out from the lack of sleep? NO! It was the light on your device! AH! THE KEURIG COFFEE MAKER OF DREAMS AND RAINBOWS O’ FUN! I quickly grabbed one of the pods, placed it into the machine. Threw my cup underneath its glorious spout. In seconds, my hands were holding the precious nectar that would get me through the next few hours.

Now you ask, where was my wife during all this? I don’t remember. I’m sure she was passed out too. I forgot a lot over those 48 hours, but I didn’t forget your machine. I will never forget your machine. It saved me.

Enclosed is a lock of my hair. It is my token of appreciation. I wanted to have it framed for you, but it was going to cost too much. Sadly, I spent all my money replenishing my K-Cup stock. Please frame it yourself, and place it on your wall next to your diploma from MIT.

For now I will continue to use your wonderful machine for those mid-afternoon crashes during our current situation, The Great Flynn Teething Crisis of 2012.

XOXO,

Trey Flynn
Loving dad, Caffeine addict, and President of the Keurig Fan Club
(I made that last one up, unless of course you want to appoint me president right now)