I phoned up the call centre

“Good afternoon you’re speaking to Denton”

Poor guy’s on pennies

Barely enough to pay rent on.

 

Yet I’m still well set

To give ‘im a bashin

Verbal, not hands like

I got compashin'

 

I know he’s not interested

In anything I say

I know that he’s sworn at

Every f**kin day

 

I know that his training

Was minimal and cheap

That he’s stacked in an office

That’s bottom of the heap

 

That when I ask something

That’s not on the screen

He’s truly helpless

You know what I mean

 

But my blood starts to boil

As I don’t get what I want

So I thrash down the phone

And re-iterate my point

 

He puts me on hold

For a minute or two

While taking some s**t

From his manager who

 

Tells him not

To bow to my wishes

(She finds her power

So thoroughly delishis)

 

He comes back on

“Sorry for the wait”

“No worries” say I

Though I’m still well irate

 

He says that he simply can’t

Help me right now

He says...though...praps...maybe

I just say “how?”

 

He says I must write

A letter to head office

I yell in his ear

“A letter? Ahh f**k all this!”

 

He says ‘Please now sir,

I’ll hang up if you swear’

“Bollocks” say I

CLICK BRR, no one there

 

Arrrrggggghh the b@st@rds

I just don’t believe….

But wait, there’s still

one more trick up my sleeve

 

I call up again

And bemoan poor ol Denton

The guy who don’t earn

Enough to pay rent on

 

But now I’m told

He doesn’t exist

For f%cks f&*kin sake

Now truly pissed

 

I rant at the guy

And ask to speak

To his line manager

His answer is weak

 

“Isn’t there anything

I can do?

You’re speaking to Jonathan

Good afternoon.”