Today Sucked

There's a postal slip in my Azaelias

Where a parcel should have been

It's too late to call into work,

The tracking number is a messy scrawl

I'll have to try and make it after...

I should have had plenty of time

But some bozo is driving at half the speed limit

Single lane road twists and turns

I can't safely overtake them.

I reach the post office as they're locking up

They can't re-open, or read the tracking number

Stress headache blurs my vision

Or perhaps it's tears of rage

I order take out for dinner

Because I don't think I could take the sound of the microwave

The order comes late,

They don't call or ring the bell

Because why take five whole seconds?

Half the order is missing

Was it stolen, or never packed?

No one answers when I try to call,

The app can't make an instant refund

It's not too late to order something else,

But my pay comes through tomorrow.

I want the world to be a little less hard

I'm tired of playing on EXTREME-Mode.

Smile and smile and get through the day.

Don't think about tomorrow.

Today sucked, but since I can't actually punch the useless assholes who made it that way, I'm writing vent poetry instead.

I've lodged complaints with everyone I can, Menulog has acknowledged my request and are investigating. Solutions have been offered that are, for one reason or another, more hassle than the current solution of trying again tomorrow.