Hello! my name is – do you have the time
to listen to a caller’s rhyme?
Night after night, machine after machine,
a voicemail greeting most obscene,
rejection here, a hang up there,
suppressed frustrations everywhere.
“Match that gift-” the managers cry,
while we ask alumni to buy, buy, buy
the security of students future, present, and past
to ensure our beloved school will last-
Oh please! Don’t go! I’ve just begun!
And there goes yet another one.
With every single angry click,
I follow the clock, each sluggish tick.
The second hand is my dearest friend,
the one who leads to me each shift’s end.
Hello! my name is – do you have the time
to listen to a caller’s rhyme?
Dedicated to my fellow call center workers, especially those at university telefunds. A half-assed poem is all the condolence I can offer. Whatever pays the bills.
