I've just spent about seven fucking hours listening to some automaton
telling me how much they value my call, although that value evidently
stops just short of paying someone to actually answer the fucking thing,
eventually to be told that I'd got through to the wrong department,
which must be just about impossible given how bloody specific I had to
be when navigating through those fucking pathetic menus which might as
well say "press seven if you want to piss away another precious hour of
your life whilst listening to Vivaldi played on a child's organ," so
that finally when I get through to someone I ought to be speaking to the
person whose sole job it is to alter the dates of direct debits and
nothing else, yet somehow I'm in the wrong pissing department so I have
to be transferred from one 17 year old fucking retard to another, based
at some other human battery farm where you are only allowed to speak the more »
