Is Wilber Winkle a consumer advocate extraordinaire or just a nut with too much time on his hands? Whatever the verdict, this hilarious collection of complaint letters to American corporations and their responses are a laugh-aloud page-turner. Readers everywhere will recognize the beefs that Wilber strives to get to the bottom of: Denny's waitresses disturbing the delicate balance of cream and sugar in their coffee, the disappearance of the almond from the 5th Avenue candy bar, and insulting automotive technicians at Jiffy Lube. After studying Wilber's letter-writing campaigns, readers will learn how to complain the Wilber Winkle Way and translate customer service-ese. An unflinchingly funny look into the world of customer service and one consumer who will not stand for life's little inconveniences.

Dear Reader:

When a friend recently took an interest in my stress- relieving/problem-solving technique of complaint-writing and referred me to a book publisher, I was quite flattered. I was even more flattered when that publisher, Bruce Bortz of Bancroft Press, asked me to lunch. He said he'd reviewed the letters I had accumulated over the previous three years and considered a few of them to be hilarious, including the one to Chrysler where I'd requested a job as a human crash test dummy.

At first, I was puzzled by this comment. Then I became angry and confused. What, I demanded to know, did he mean by hilarious? Well, came his nervous reply, your letters are supposed to be funny, aren't they?

In my younger days, I would have challenged Mr. Bortz to a brawl, laughed out of context, or picketed the Bancroft Press townhouse to protest the mocking of my efforts. Instead, I raced home to my computer and composed a complaint letter.

Mr. Bortz soon called to apologize for the terrible mistake he had made. My manuscript, he said, had gotten mixed up with one he was looking over on presidential joke writers. But I was unsatisfied with this explanation. I asked him point blank: if he had truly made a mistake, why had he specifically called my Chrysler letter hilarious? After a long pause, Mr. Bortz explained: I thought you were proposing to do the crash tests without a seat belt.

Only a fool would do a crash test that way, I responded, after which we both enjoyed a healthy chuckle. Mr. Bortz promptly proclaimed that the world would be a better place if all my letters were published, and that he wanted to do so in a Bancroft Press book. How could I not agree?

But the road ahead would still be a little bumpy. Over the next three months, we exchanged about a dozen letters, and finally agreed to the terms of a basic contract. After that, we began a long series of negotiations mostly by e-mail about the books contents. Sometimes it was hard to agree. He'd want a letter in, and I wouldn't. He'd want a letter put in a certain place. I'd want it elsewhere. He said my face shouldn't be on the cover. I politely objected.

I suppose I wore him down because six months later our dickering finally ended and Mr. Bortz, sounding quite exasperated, wrote me to say, I give up, Wilber. I'll put in whatever letters you want in whatever order you say and do whatever kind of cover you think best. I guess that means that, if you don't like any aspect of this book, you'd better complain directly to me, not to Mr. Bortz's Bancroft Press.

Except for one thing. In light of the lengthy back-and-forth I had with Mr. Bortz, you may think it strange that the book is located in the humor section of your library or bookstore. I do, too. I thought it should go on the Self-Help shelves, or maybe those of Spirituality, New Age, or Inspiration. I insisted to Mr. Bortz that I'd written my letters, first and...