Monday 13 February 2012

Could your energy provider be your Valentine?

An energy ombudsman has collaborated with the Poetry Society this Valentines to encourage better relationships between energy companies and their customers.

Poet Matt Harvey has penned down the verses to the humorous poem titled 'It's not me, it's you', which narrates the story of a disheartened customer breaking off the relationship with its energy provider and having problems switching providers.

Lewis Shand Smith, Chief Ombudsman said: "Each year we handle thousands of complaints from the customers of energy companies and in most of these something has gone wrong with the customer service provided. We're grateful to Matt and the Poetry Society for helping us get our message across that companies need to do more to woo their customers."

The poem is released today and can be found on the Ombudsman services website. But we have it here for your delight:

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.