I'm Not Angry
Angry? Who me?
I'm not angry; why would you think that?
Are you referring to the numbskull
who pulled out in front of me this morning?
The clown to whom I gave a friendly, warning toot;
the one who gave me the middle finger,
and a mouthful of abuse,
as though I was at fault.
No, I'm not angry; why would you think that?
Or have you heard about the call to my Broadband provider,
regarding my internet connection?
I had to listen to: 'Sorry, none of our customer-services'
employees are available at the moment,
would you like to call back later?'
'No, sorry, I'm paying for something
that you shower of robber barons are not providing.'
After I'd listened to Plan B for too long,
wondering if Plan A would ever evolve,
I finally got through to someone
who spoke an incomprehensible form of pidgin English,
and I had the good fortune of paying for the call.
But I'm not angry; why would you think that?
Ah, you must be relating to the waitress at lunch?
She who served me a bottle of lukewarm
Sancerre with my salmon fillet.
And when I said: 'I'd like the wine properly chilled, please.'
She stormed off in a sulk, as though I was being unreasonable.
No, don't be silly, I'm not angry.
Hey, I've definitely got it.How could I miss it?
It was the woman on the till at the Co-op?
When she'd finished serving the woman before me,
she carried on gossiping for another five minutes,
as though I was invisible.
Without so much as a, 'sorry to keep you waiting,'
she said, 'Do you want a carrier bag?'
I said, 'No, and I don't want these groceries either.
I've been waiting so long, they've passed their sell-by date.
That's it, I've said enough;
I've bitten my lip to bleeding!
But I'm not angry!!
I'm not frigging angry!!!
Just a bit of self-amusement. I'm not really Mr Grumpy.
Copyright © Jonathan French | Year Posted 2018