“Your call is very important to us,” growled the crabby lady at the utility company. “Please wait for the next available representative.”
Ever suspect that there is no next representative? Maybe just six people in a coffee room playing poker, laughing their fannies off.
Utilities were notorious phone slackers, but Social Security put a new emphasis on lethargy. I’m applying for Medicare. Yesterday I spent 86 minutes (over three calls) waiting for that elusive representative.
Mostly, I play nicely with recorded people. My friend, Nancy, has a really hot, debonair guy fielding her missed calls. We chat often.
Now, the taped pharmacy tech gets easily confused and flustered. Transpose two numbers in your script refill and watch what happens. (Keep an extra 9-volt handy!)
“Fish sandwich and a diet Coke,” I politely ordered at the drive-up window.
“Fzhtgm haekj dvxuqp,” replied the captive in the box.
“OK, fries, too.”
Catalog orders have variety.
Order some junk from Fingerhut and it’s processed by a guy with the IQ of Gilligan. Purchase a leather jacket from Macy’s and you reach Katharine Hepburn.
The recorded bank teller seems a mite too jovial when she announces, “We are sorry to inform you that your account has been overdrawn.”
I entertain myself when the disembodied voice informs me that the menu has changed. I dutifully listen and select the number that appears to correspond to my problem. Doing this sends me to web purgatory for at least, say, 86 minutes.
When I call back, I carefully select the stupidest option, making sure it has nothing to do with my actual difficulty. Someone, probably bored to tears, picks up on the first ring and I have “bagged him,” the elusive representative.
I discovered that, with very little effort, I can ditch the mechanized default voice. For now, I have replaced him with seductive Barry White.
Knowing how irritating recorded folks can be, I make it a point to raise the bar. Close to Election Day, I record, “Hi. Michele here. Sling your mud after the beep.”
At Christmas, I ask why Santa is always so jolly. “It’s because he knows where all the naughty girls live. C’mon, ’fess up! Were you naughty or nice?”
With Easter approaching, I created something new. “Can’t take your call. The Easter Bunny decided to go Goth this year. I’m helping him draw the tattoos and pierce the shells.”
Enjoy spring and have fun with Medicare.