Dear Apple founders, co-founders, creators, designers, product developers, programmers, CEOs, CFOs, Tim Cook, Steve Wozniak (go bears), and any of the 98,000 employees affiliated with, associated with, or otherwise present within the Apple kingdom:

We need to talk.

Now, before I begin, I am hugely appreciative of your products. I am the proud owner of a 13-inch MacBook Air that has supported me through numerous late night research essays and Netflix binges, and I have also owned several iPhones that eventually bit the dust, but fought valiantly until the bittersweet end (also known as my Verizon upgrade). I was one of the first people in the sixth grade to get an iPod Nano, and it made me feel popular for about forty-five minutes. For that, Apple, I am eternally grateful.

However, as I sit here typing on the keyboard that was no doubt cut with diamond laser-beam micro-precision or with some other unfathomable leap in technology that you probably patented, it is with a heavy heart and a tear in my eye that I must inform you of several inconveniences and/or problems that I have experienced with your products.

1. Chargers.

Apple, your chargers aggravate me for several reasons. First of all, those temperamental little bastards are just about as durable as tissue paper. Seriously, I have broken more than I care to admit. The fact that you cannot create a decent charger with enough strength to handle mild-to-moderate movements is beyond me. I can barely stand looking at these devastating photographs.

Not only that, but you practically annihilated the modern world when you changed your phone charger during the release of the iPhone 5. You caused millions of people so much heartache: buying adapters, replacing iHomes, the inability to share chargers, and the general anguish regarding the money and resources that needed to be spent. And it's likely that you’ll pull the same stunt again soon—you've done it several times before. Not only that, but the waste generated due to faulty products and technological upgrades is completely unnecessary. Half of American landfills probably consist of broken or outdated Apple chargers. The world needs you, Apple. I need you.

2. Screens.

Here’s the deal, Apple: after cracking the screen of my brand-new iPhone 6 just twenty-four hours after purchasing it, I can confidently say that your iPhone screens are a major problem. I’d go so far as to say that the majority of iPhone users I know have cracked their screen at least once. Humans are clumsy! We drop things! And you decided to construct a product generally kept in one's pocket out of glass? GLASS? I hate to bring up the Phone That Must Not Be Named (alright, Android), but aren’t they making shatterproof screens over there? If you are unfamiliar with the Broken iPhone Screen Phenomenon, I have provided photographic evidence to perhaps aid you in your next design.

3. Commercials.

Apple, I wish I could say we were friends, but sometimes I feel like a victim of your marketing, and that’s not how a friendship should work. Your commercials are so soothing and consolatory, and now that I am a loyal customer I can’t help but feel I’ve been swindled. When I hear the verbose, reassuring British accent of your Senior VP of Design, Jony Ive, accompanied by a clean white background, modern music and HD graphics like the ones below, I am enraptured and cannot help but want to throw large quantities of money at you. I could watch those commercials for hours, Apple. I feel like I’m getting more intelligent just by listening to softly-spoken words like “integration,” “display,” and “seamless material transitions.” That can’t be healthy.

Alright, Apple. I have more grievances, including iCloud (honestly, what the hell is iCloud? Those “Not Enough Storage” messages befuddle and agitate me) and cost (seriously, can’t your top-notch engineers develop a student-grade laptop that isn’t worth a year’s wages at my minimum wage job?). But I’ll leave you with this: You already have myself and a sizable portion of the world in your clutches, because your products have arguably the most user-friendly interface on the market. I could never leave you, Apple, because that Arial font and sleek logo that doubles as a healthy snack are the only technological home I have. I simply ask that you meet me halfway and let me spend money more productively—not on my sixth lousy iPhone charger, but on one really phenomenal one that will actually last longer than a few months.

Apple, I know we have our rough patches, but I think through teamwork and patience we can work this out. I have a dream that you, a colossal corporation, and I, a pathetic patron, will one day raise our clasped hands in mutual victory, knowing that we have each others’ best interests at heart.

Thank you for everything, Apple. Good tidings and good luck.

I’ll be waiting.

Sincerely,

Jamie Ferrell