Jennifer SwannDear Zinga!,
I got your text this morning. I know it's been a while since we've seen each other, but I was a little shocked to hear the news: “This message is to notify our loyal customers that Zinga will be sadly closing our doors tomorrow night, Sat. Jan. 25th.”
The text came suddenly at 11:48 this morning, and without any warning. I guess I should've seen the signs that what we had wouldn't last, dear Zinga!, but I just wish you would've told me in person. I'm hurt not only because you ended our relationship by text message, but that you did so by mass text. OK, not even a mass text – an automated text. It's like you don't even know who I am anymore, Zinga!.
It's true that in the beginning I was loyal to you. When you moved into my neighborhood in early 2013, I would walk all the way to see you nearly every day on my lunch break. I craved you at all hours of the day. I couldn't get enough of you, Zinga!. Yes, you were cultured, and you were sweet and you were new in town, and if you must know, yes I found you incredibly luscious and fruity.
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Luscious, fruity Zinga! in Culver City; Credit: Photo: J. Swann
But, dear Zinga!, you stopped changing your flavors. You got soft and runny and I wanted to run away from you. You stopped melting my heart and instead, you yourself got melty. You stopped playing my favorite songs on the overhead speakers. And dammit, Zinga!, you started emptying my wallet. Five bucks a day isn't much, but it adds up and soon I grew pretty tired of it, Zinga!. I hope you can understand that.
Yes, it was a shorter walk from my office to you than it was to the Yogurtland on Overland and Venice Boulevards. But you know what I've realized, Zinga!? Our relationship was one of convenience. I only ran to you because you were you were there. But you were never really there for me. You were cold to me, frozen almost.
To top it all off, you only texted me to tell me how many points I had racked up upon each purchase. It was like the only thing you ever cared about was how many fro-yo points I had accumulated and how many I had left to earn before I could get a free yogurt. It's true that you remembered me with a text on my birthday, and you even offered me a free fro-yo. I appreciate the sentiment, Zinga!, but it was too little too late.
And now look at us, Zinga!. You're leaving me tomorrow and you'll never see me again. And even after the disappointment of your occasionally boring flavors or your runny-ness or messiness, I know I'm still going to miss you. Maybe someday I'll find it in my heart to drive down to see you in Long Beach.
Yours,
Loyal Culver City Customer
Zinga! at 4114 Sepulveda Blvd. in Culver City will serve its last cup of fro-yo (actually, you'll have to serve it yourself) on Saturday, Jan. 25 at 11 p.m. Fairfax, Virginia-based Zinga!'s only other California location is at 1827 Ximeno Ave. in Long Beach.
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