From Whence It Came

Chex Mix and generic jazz
crunching in my skull
while impatiently, I wait
on humans
technicians, purportedly
yet it seems they are
incapable of holding
fluid conversation, in which
repetition is not needed
and information, retained
much less, possessing ability
to provide the service
or support, for which they are
employed

this is due, in part,
to the individual
essential component, yet
model is not offered
without ego pre-installed
in permanent memory
which may lead to:
incompatible programs
unable to communicate

If I seem verbose, forgive me
but my patience is wearing thin
as I wait to be told, again
that it must be
user error
the last one
must have been a tribal leader
within the herd
as she possessed the intellect
to exclaim
“I don’t know why it isn’t working!”
honesty has its uses
when sanity is at stake

Jazz cuts off, my wait has ended
but now I find, in irony
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, my tools are
not working, and
my computer has now frozen
so please
stay on the line…”
I try not to laugh,
as in some office, far away
a technician sits
and from the phone I hear
her smacking a computer
I muse, it is no wonder,
that I am still waiting

After repeated attempts
resetting this or that
and departmental squabbles
over who must accept
the challenge, and responsibility
for malfunctioning device
a miracle occurs
for some reason, yet unknown
the error is resolved
technician fails to hide
her surprise and glee
the office cheers,
we disconnect, and I
am left wondering
at the bizarre universe
from which I was ejected
and I dare hope
that I need not return
but now I stare
at the foreign device, in my hand
and ponder,
from whence it came

© M. Black, 2015 All rights reserved.

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