The Oldest Complaint

Cedar Valley News
Fictorial Number 407 · September 7, 2026
The Oldest Complaint
By Teresa Nikas

I got a letter this week from a man who was furious with me.

I will spare you the details, and spare him, because he was right, more or less, and we ran the correction, which is the whole reason a Letters page exists. But he was angry. Properly angry, the way people get when a thing they cared about was handled carelessly. And as I read it, a little stung, the way any editor gets, I found myself thinking, not for the first time, this is the oldest job in the whole world. Not mine, the editing. His. The complaining. The pointing out, by one aggrieved human to another, of a thing not right, which somebody had better hear about.

Let me tell you about the oldest one we have.

Nearly 3,800 years ago, in the city of Ur, in what is now southern Iraq, a man named Nanni bought a shipment of copper from a merchant named Ea-nasir. The copper was no good. Worse, Ea-nasir had promised better, delivered less, and been rude to the servant Nanni sent to sort it out. And Nanni, seething, did the thing any of us would do. He fired off a strongly worded complaint.

Except he had no keyboard, no paper, no stamp. What he had was wet clay and a sharpened reed. He pressed his fury, wedge by careful wedge, into a wet clay tablet about the size of your open hand. The clay dried, hardened, and lasted. It lasted through the fall of Ur, and of Babylon, and of Rome, and of every last empire since. A hundred years ago, archaeologists dug it out of the ruins of Ea-nasir’s own house, and it sits today in the British Museum, behind glass, in a hall of gods and kings, the single oldest customer complaint anyone, anywhere, has ever once found.

And here is the detail I love best. It was not the only one. They found a whole stack of them in the house. Other people, complaining about the same man. Ea-nasir, it seems, was simply bad at copper, and the archive of the disappointed outlived him by four thousand years.

You can read Nanni’s words now, in translation, and the thing to stop you cold is how utterly familiar they are. You left, he writes, and you did not do what you promised me. And then, the line which has echoed down every century since: What do you take me for? Strip away the clay and the cuneiform, and it is every one-star review you have ever read. It is the email you sent the airline last spring, seething, at midnight. It is the letter the man sent me this very Tuesday. Four thousand years, and the human being on the far end of a broken promise has not changed by a single degree.

I find this unreasonably comforting.

We tend to think of writing as the place we keep our grandest things. The scriptures, the treaties, the great poems, the last words of the dying. And we do keep those, and we should. But the oldest voice to reach us whole, across all those centuries, belongs to no king and no prophet. It belongs to an ordinary, exasperated man who would not be cheated on copper and had the good sense to write it down. His anger is not a fact in a history book. It is a living thing. It reaches clear across four thousand years, and it takes you gently by the collar, and you know him at once, entirely, because he is you. He is every last one of us who ever expected better and did not get it.

There is what writing is truly for. Not only the monuments. Also, this. A furious man in Ur, and a stung editor here in Cedar Valley, and you, wherever you are, all of us keeping the plain human record, pressing what matters into something which might, against all odds, outlast us.

So go on and write your letter. Write it with care. It may last a good deal longer than you think.

And be kinder than Ea-nasir. The clay remembers everything.

Cedar Valley News is free, and it comes to your inbox every morning, six days a week. If this morning’s fictorial was worth your time, please forward it to someone who would value it. And if someone forwarded it to you and you’d like your own each morning, you can subscribe here.

Cedar Valley News has a Letters to the Editor page, and I would be glad to hear from you. What is the best, or the angriest, letter you ever wrote, and did it change a thing? Write to us. And if we have gotten something wrong, write and tell us, and we will run the correction.

This fictorial is part of the fictional Cedar Valley News series, written by Evan Swensen, Publisher, and Claude Marshall, AI Developmental Editor. While Teresa and her town are fictional, the tablet is real. The complaint tablet to Ea-nāṣir (British Museum, object number 1953,0411.71) is a clay tablet written in Akkadian cuneiform in the city of Ur, in what is now southern Iraq, around 1750 BC. In it, a customer named Nanni complains to a copper merchant named Ea-nāṣir about substandard copper, unkept promises, and the mistreatment of his messenger. Excavated in Ur roughly a century ago (a number of similar complaint tablets were found in the same house), it is recognized as the oldest known written customer complaint. Sources include the British Museum, Guinness World Records, and A. Leo Oppenheim’s Letters from Mesopotamia.

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