Automated Headaches.

Awakening to the sound of my letter box flapping,
My senses were immediately provoked,
upon reading a letter, typed in threatening red ink,
My character; they attempted to choke.

As I angrily dialled the Power Company's number,
wondering when, or will I ever get through,
An automated robot then answers my call,
"You're now number two in the queue."

My only choice is to hang on and wait,
While listening to Strauss Viennese Waltz.
With reference number ready for the customer help line.
to search their computerized vaults.

My fingernails unconsciously starting to tap,
as my blood pressure quickly begins to rise.
another possible migraine attack caused by this stress,
Pulsating at the back of my eyes.

All this unnecessary worry and stress,
for a bill their computer has spewed.
Fed by a human in their infinite wisdom,
Inciting this quarterly feud.

"Good morning! I'm Phil; May I help you?
Apologises; our computers are down.
We're open till eight, if you don't want to wait,
you could call into our shop in town."

" You've sent me this bill that's preposterous!
Enormous amounts that's totally obscene.
There's no way I live in Buckingham Palace Phil,
And I'm certainly not Elizabeth; the Queen."

"Madam I can only say we're sorry,
My apologises to you; so sincere.
You've been dealing with Phil; so I'll sort our your bill,
And you have a nice day my dear."

Written by Jeanette Laitak