April 22, 2020. 

Not something I would normally write, it was mostly just a fun idea I did in a few minutes. Call centers, amiright? Some Mr. Rogers inspiration. 

chewing my bubble gum with rage

in a cold room that smells like cigarettes from smoke breaks and strong, floral perfume

i am seated at a computer desk, endlessly calling number after number

with every minute, my face takes on a redder hue

with every minute, i sink lower in my chair debating slumber


but instead i introduce myself, am spoken over, am insulted

"not interested"-- "you have the wrong number"-- "i'm at work right now"

and in truth, i am not interested either but i see your number on my screen

if you were so busy, why'd you take the time to answer me?


and in moments when we bite our cheek,

when we anxiously bounce our legs and feet,

when we sigh, groan, yawn, and roll our eyes

we could talk about our feelings, we could bottle them up inside


we could punch a pillow, break a mirror

sip some tea, chamomile-- (with a taste like this, you better heal me)

we could scream and yell until our voices disappear

we could complain that we're sick and beg to go home early


we could play every piano key at once, B O O M

we could throw old books to wake their authors up

we could pound a lump of clay, take a breather in the bathroom

or simply rub our temples and think we've had enough


but instead, i am here, chewing my bubble gum with rage

only to take it out of my mouth when the next call answers

because i wouldn't want to annoy them




Poetry by aidan haskel
Read 263 times
Written on 2020-04-22 at 10:42

Tags Frustration  Humor 

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F.i.in.e Moods The PoetBay support member heart!
Yes, this definitely brought it all back to me! The title really sums it up perfectly, too. Many years ago, I worked in a call centre, and I've found myself very much feeling all the steps described here. Truly among one of the worse jobs out there, and this takes the reader through it very well - thanks.