Seventeen years ago, someone pissed me off. That someone was U-Haul. Yes, the entire company. I wanted them to go to a very bad place. It's a long story, and we all have short attention spans, so suffice it to say that they sucked, and I was the victim of their suckage. I could have done the mature thing—phone customer service and register a complaint, in hopes that the matter would be rectified. I could have done the immature thing—leave a flaming bag of dog-and/or-human feces outside the front door of one of their facilities. Instead, I did the weird thing. I wrote U-Haul a letter. But, rather than write a letter castigating them for their abysmal service, which I felt fairly sure would not improve the situation and only succeed in further inflaming my temper, I sent them this: September 18, 2001 CEO U-Haul 2727 N. Central Ave. Phoenix, AZ Dear CEO: How are you? I am writing to ask a question about the rental of one of your trucks. I would ...