Smile-breaks
On hold
Well, I'll be jiggered! The robot hung up on me! What?! The letter said to call Customer Service at this number and all would be made well. It wasn't.
I wasn't surprised at the twenty options to choose from. I wasn't surprised that none of them matched what I wanted, so I chose one at random and was promptly put on hold. After a few years the music stopped and someone on the other end picked up. I breathed a sigh of relief and tossed down my book.
"This is Wendy. I'm not a human but I will try to help you." Gee, thanks. Try? And a robot? After all this time? Where did all the humans go? This 21st century is beyond belief! Robot Wendy proceeded to instruct me— in no uncertain terms—that I must, MUST, answer each of her questions with a YES or NO, loudly and clearly. Just a YES or a NO. Nothing else. "Yes, dear robot."
The letter that started this whole fiasco informed me that Paul's doctor was retired—we knew that—and that his recently assigned doctor—by them, not us, we already had a new doctor—was no longer available so they had assigned a new one. Not the one we had.
Thus Robot Wendy starts the interrogation: Was I calling about insurance? NO. About a medical problem? NO. About the location of medical offices? NO. And on she went. Never hit on the reason for my call. She gave up just as I croaked, "Speak to an. . ." and said she was transferring me to someone who could help. Thank goodness!
The "someone" was another robot. "I'm a robot, but I will try to help you anyway." Fat chance! We went around like boxers in a ring until I said, "I need to change Paul's assigned PCP." "I don't understand. Please repeat." I did. Very clearly. "I need. . ."
"Sorry. I can't help you." Click. The robot hung up. Rude robot! Cell phones don't click, but they do go dead and mine went dead, dead to any help from robots or, against all odds, a human. Remember those days?
I picked up the letter that sent me off to phoneville and merrily tossed it into the trash. Let them figure it out. I am done with being on hold, talking to robots, and being told "You are important to us. Please hold. An agent will be with you shortly," followed by that soothing music that sets your blood to boiling because you have other, better things to be doing than sitting with your cell in your hand for the rest of the day. Wonder what the robots do when they're waiting. . .
Oh, yes! "If you like, you can hang up and we'll save your place in the queue. Someone will give you a call back when your turn comes up." Hah! Last time I did that, it was the next day before I got a call back and it was a recorded message to call that same number, the one I'd been put on hold on. So nope! Not for me! Thanks anyway.
I'm done. I'm looking for a world where phones get answered by humans with no holds barred—pun intended—and no sappy music to soothe the soul. If I want music, I'll go to SiriusXM or a live music venue or maybe I'll even sit down and try to remember how to play the piano.