The Coffee Bitch bitches (again)

Dear Local Internet Provider,

I thought that I should take a little time to update you on our situation. You may remember me from our many previous conversations. I am the Coffee Bitch and I run a little Coffee House in Smalltown. It is somewhat important to me that we offer our customers a wireless service and we really want to do that in a professional manner. At present, as I am sure you recall, we are having to skank wireless from someone in the area who is unknowing enough to run an unsecured network. This could be acceptable except for the fact that the owner of the network is, I presume, downloading vast amounts of gay zoophile between the hours of 9 till 5 instead of working. This means that the selfish bastard is gobbling up all of the bandwidth and leaving me with perhaps 5bps.

Well I have now made 6 calls to various numbers within your organization and each time I have been met with a disinterest that is quite astonishing. It is not going to be a major task to hook me up, as I have already explained 6 times. The cables are in, the router is connected, the wireless hub awaits your pleasure and we are ready to go. All you have to do is sit at a terminal, type in an IP address and bill us. Easy? Apparently not.

I imagine that your worthless and demotivated employees just sit around spliffing up and interfering with the lie of their (small, nay tiny) testicles. Certainly they have no time to welcome new customers to the fold. Many, many years ago in my home country, British Telecom had the monopoly on pretty much all forms of communication. Let me tell you that I thought that they were the absolute epitome of all that was worthless in industry. Let me also tell you that BT shines like a beacon in the night compared to your worthless and pathetic attempts to provide service which seems limited to keeping me on hold for 20 minutes and then spouting mindless rhetoric. I suppose that I should be grateful for if I was a customer God forbid I ever had a technical issue.

Doubtless you are no longer reading this letter, as you have at least a thousand other dissatisfied customers to ignore, and also another one of those crucially important testicle moments to attend to. Frankly I don't care. It's far more satisfying as a customer to voice my frustrations in print than to shout them at your unending hold music.

So why would I even call you? Well quite frankly in Smalltown there isn't anyone else is there? How saddened I therefore was, when I discovered to my considerable dissatisfaction and disappointment what a useless shower of bastards you truly are. You are sputum-filled pieces of distended rectum tissue of the highest order

May I close by saying that as a mark of my appreciation I have enclosed a pair of my boxers and no, that is not A1 sauce smeared into the gusset. I do hope that the airlock bag has worked as they were deliciously moist when I packed them and I would not want any of the delicate essence to be lost.

May God shrivel your private parts and grow a big black beard on your wife’s face.

The Coffee Bitch