Sometimes a customer writes me to say
“I wish that your product would do things this way.”
I like to tell them “Hey, let’s clear the air:
“The problem’s between your keyboard and chair.”
Tag Archives: Customer Service
When You Delete An Account And The Site Says “Bye! (The Way, We’re Going To Store Your Data Indefinitely And Sell It To China ‘Cause You’re Not A Customer Anymore And Also F*** You)”
I’m waiting on a support site,
Ninety-Seventh in the queue
To have an underpaid employee
Perform what one button should do.
As I sit and wait for death
A thought appears within my head:
Instead of helping customers
Just wait for them to leave instead!
In both cases numbers dwindle
And the most impatient flee.
After all, those seeking help
Will probably leave… Haha, heehee!
Then I realized I found
The truth of this nefarious plot.
If I post tomorrow, I’m safe
(But then again, maybe I’m not…)
Filed under Poems
Morning Support
I said my name and my address
My SSN, my cause of distress,
And received the counseling
Of choppy jazz and a telephone ring.
A computer graciously took my call
And presented me with options, all
Irrelevant to my concern.
IT just wants the world to burn.
A half-hour later, I just lied
To get a human on the inside
To transfer me where relevant.
Off to China I was sent
Where a friendly native, “Joe,”
Quickly showed me where to go.
I sent an email, and right away
Was told to call, and to have a nice day.
I made up an answer and called it good.
What I go through for firewood…
Filed under Poems
The Waiter’s Revenge
Like springtime peaches
Or December pears
Her disposition was sour.
Her malcontent
Left ripening
For well over an hour.
She left me not
A tip that night
Since the service was so slow.
I’m not the kind
To ruin food
But brake lines… Yes or no?
Filed under Poems
Customer Service
I know folks are unhappy
When they come into the shop
With their car behind a tow truck
After an unexpected stop.
I know just why they take it out
On the guy behind the desk,
And in their frustration
Have need to vent about their mess.
I tried to work a grocery store,
And shops for clothes and tires,
Yet no matter what, the customers
Always brought their ires.
That’s how I came to work here,
In sales at Guns R Us,
‘Cause when there’s a rifle in your hands
Folks don’t make such a fuss.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 