I admit that it appalled me
that day you first cold-called me

but you charmed me, won me over
told me I would be in clover

and I succumbed to your advances
thought: what the heck, I’ll take my chances

I told the Doubting Thomases
that you would keep your promises

you’d said that you would care for me
that you’d always be there for me

oh how very wrong of me
I should have thought more carefully

all that warmth and bonhomie
now seems like such hot air to me

for when I called to clarify
the startlingly high tariff I

was on, you proved elusive
and remarkably reclusive
for one so formerly effusive

in breach of all known etiquette
you started playing hard-to-get

left me feeling so much smaller
as if I’m the nuisance caller

with designs on your affection
which is vexing and perplexing

I don’t think it would hurt to see
a bit of old world courtesy

so I’m parting from your company
who’s dumping who? You’re dumping me

constructively dismissing me
I trust you’ll soon be missing me

and then you’ll once again change tack
predictably you’ll call me back

and find you’re waiting in a queue
to hear, when you at last get through

Goodbye. It isn’t me. It’s you.