I’ve been on hold for forty-two minutes and around thirty-six seconds. Which doesn’t seem like long, but this is my fifth attempt at calling them. I’ve also emailed them. Twice. I placed my order on September 19th and it has still not arrived. If you work on the customer service phones for a particular online shopping site, you are shite at your job, sort it out.
Here are some haiku’s:
I can’t remember
what life is like without the
dialling tone. cry.
I hope there is fire
at the customer service
desks. A lot of fire.
ring ring ring ring ring
ring ring ring ring ring ring ring
ring ring ring ring ring
I feel like everyone’s a bit more irritating than usual lately. I was nagged into getting a blood test to tell me whether or not I was allergic to nuts, which I’ve known I am for fourteen years; plot twist, I still am. It took almost two hours for me to enrol at uni because nobody knew anything about anything ever. My best friend keeps getting uppity because I don’t pay him enough attention but when I try to put effort in he calls me needy. I spent almost an hour in the health clinic today to discover I may or may not still have asthma, I’m not sure because they were incredibly vague. I also got cornered by two obese old people on those scooter things for twenty minutes because they wouldn’t move. And for some reason I got all my hair chopped off. Oh, and the uni time table keeps changing so I never know what I’m doing.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Holy Christ on a bike, someone has answered the phone… … … and she doesn’t know what is happening and she’ll call me back. Probably some time in November. 2018. Cracking.
face palm to the world.
