Inspired by the current culture of corporations defending themselves from customers by the use of "Call centres".

Help line LAMENT.

1.        When calling up a helpline, you would be well advised,
If you have to wait an hour or two, not to be surprised,
'Cos you've just joined the tail end of an automated queue,
In a system that's designed so they don't have to talk to you.

Ch.        It's a Helpline you're connected to, you try to keep your cool,
        You have no choice, you hold the line, and stand there like a fool,
        You can bite your nails, or pick your nose, you've not much else to do,
        It's a premium line, they're getting all the cash they can from you.

2.        They'll play a little music, your frustrated mood to fix,
Mozart 40 played on dustbin lids, by chimpanzees with bricks,
And when you're semi-conscious, you'll find you've been put through,
To a pre-recorded message, that will tell you what to do.
Ch.

3.        "Thank you for calling helpline", says an electronic voice,
"To further your enquiry, you will have to make a choice,
If you want to pay us money, press button number two,
Any other button takes you back to the tail end of the queue".
Ch.

4.        The thing about this system, is that automation means,
That they need not permit you to converse with human bein's
Thus preventing you from finding out, they haven't got a clue,
About solving all the problems that their product's giving you.

Ch.

5.        "We're only here to help you", that's their regular refrain,
        "And at a quid a minute, we sure hope you'll ring again,
        Our products really don't make too much profit, sad but true,
        But the helpline's made us millionaires, and that's all thanks to you.
Ch.

                                        

Don T.