Wait, can’t I use email?
Dear (Starbucks/Magnolia Bakery/In ‘n’ Out Burger),
I’m writing to beg you to help me, help you, make more money. As a
sometimes constant patron of your fine establishment, I’ve spent like a bazillion bucks over the past decade or so. But now, tragedy has struck and I’ve been given a celiac disease diagnosis. Yes, I am very brave. No, you don’t have to keep saying you’re sorry. I’m managing. Thank you for the tissue.
Celiac disease sucks. It basically means that I can no longer enjoy your incredible fat-free coffee cake/vanilla cupcake/cheeseburger. And even though there may be some things in your establishment (except you, Magnolia, you’re kind of dead to me) that I can enjoy, I find myself driving by without stopping while holding back the tears. Because to even step foot in your joint would bring me pain. A pain that cannot be squelched by a grande vanilla latte or well-done french fries.
I don’t know if you realize how super hip going gluten-free is (see: Gwyneth Paltrow, The New York Times, Gluten Is My Bitch), but I can guarantee you some fabulous press from at least one of the aforementioned prestigious publications if you start to offer up delicious gluten-free options.
So, please, please, (favorite establishment) consider going gluten-free. A queue of celiacs, and weirdos who think it’s cool to eat gluten-free will soon flood your open doors.
Your biggest fan (in my former, gluten-gorging life),