Standing at the bar on a Friday
night, I order a bloody Mary and while
wait I can hear a conversation
behind me between
a couple of men in football shirts.
“I couldn’t believe it” one of them
“I was trying
to get the match on my computer
and the bloody internet went,
so I phoned up Virgin and they
didn’t know anything, they didn’t
help at all, they just yapped and
yapped and I told them where to
shove it, it’s supposed to be
costumer service and they didn’t
even help, fucking useless the
lot of them”.
Something started to burn inside
while I waited for my cocktail.
I kept thinking how do you think
they feel every time
you phone them up bitching and
complaining about how your day
has been inconvenienced because
you can’t get online.
Your day has been stalled for a couple
of hours so you give them a call
and they then have to sit and
listen to your shit and try and give
Everyday they listen to that type
of shit from people who’s day has
ended because they can’t get online.
No thank you.
No kind words.
Just help me the fuck out because
i’m not capable of doing it myself
that’s why it’s your fault my
internet is down.
I leave the bar and take a seat
next to my friend and I look over
at the men and I see them still
talking about his problem.
I just hope his beer is ok.