Coofandy
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From Coofandy to Coof-ARE-YOU-KIDDING-ME?!
From Coofandy to Coof-ARE-YOU-KIDDING-ME?! I used to love Coofandy. Stylish, affordable, didn’t make me look like a couch dad from a 90s sitcom—what’s not to love? And then… the Great Urine Pajama Disaster of 2025 happened. I ordered a sleek new pair of pajamas. What I received was a biological weapon wrapped in polyester. USED. No tags. Smelled like someone’s drunk uncle at a gas station urinal took them for a joyride. I didn’t know whether to throw them in the laundry or call in a hazmat team. Who thought this was okay? Is this a new “pre-worn authenticity” line I didn’t hear about? “Vintage Pee Couture”? I contacted customer service thinking, “Surely this is a one-off mistake. They’ll make it right.” Spoiler alert: They did not. No refund. No replacement. Just radio silence like they ghosted me on a Tinder date. Coofandy, I wore your shirts with pride. I recommended you. I was a loyal stan. And this is how you repay me? With used pee-jamas? Unless you’re into urine-soaked thrift roulette, run like your dignity depends on it. Because it does. 0 stars. But since I can’t do that, here’s your single pity star—may it shame you into better hygiene policies. 6/30/2025 UPDATE: Coofandy: Ghost Emails, Phantom Promises, and the Customer Service Bermuda Triangle Gotta love it when customer service replies on Trustpilot saying, “We sent you an email.” So, like a rational human being, I check. Spam folder? Empty. Promotions? Nothing. Carrier pigeon inbox? Bone dry. So I think, “Hey, let’s do the responsible thing and actually call them.” Spoiler alert: they have zero record of sending anything. Not a word. Not a whisper. Nada. It’s like their support system runs on smoke signals and wishful thinking. Meanwhile, I’m still sitting here with a pair of pajamas that look like they were pre-owned by a raccoon with a bladder problem. At this point, I’m not even mad. I’m just impressed by the sheer consistency of the chaos.