Whilst I have no clue whatsoever as
to the etymology of referring to a telephone as a “horn”, I seem to have been a
tin-eared elk honking like an out-of- tune saxophonist this past week...
“This call will be recorded for
quality control purposes” the mechanical voice properly officiously informed me
as I dialed a utility company with a simple question.
“Yeah, God willing”, I accidentally
sighed out loud.
“OK.
Got it. I’ll transfer you to
billing.”
“Wait, wait, wait; NOOO!”
Crap...
Welcome to thirty minutes of pressing buttons on the “horn”...
Are there really no more living,
breathing human beings available to pick up the phone except out-sourced
companies that leave you on hold with Muzak and then transfer you to another
country?
>>><<<
In a worthy attempt to keep my
expenses down, but craving some beef, I purchased a bacon cheeseburger at a
local mini-mart from their refrigerated section and wagged home the chilly cow.
YAY!
Time for a tasty lunch, yes?!
“Insert burger into store microwave
and press #3”.
What?
“Customer satisfaction is
guaranteed!” the label read all happily, with an 800 number for my requisite ‘customer
satisfaction’. (Cue more Muzak.)
“Hi.
I bought a bacon cheeseburger from your company, but didn’t cook it in
the store. Can you help me with approximately
how much time I should nuke it as to the equivalence of whatever is #3?”
“Oh, I don’t have that kind of
specific specs maam. But thank you for calling, and have a great day!”
Are you kidding
me??? Yeah, let’s just wing it with
E.coli!!!
>>><<<
Still feeling a bit bullied by my
on-line Tech Support, I frowned at my computer which was encouraging me to
follow seven steps of uploading/downloading (I don’t understand the difference)
for technological blah, blah, blah...
(No thanks to my nephew Austin, who is an absolute genius, but is currently
waaay too busy being a teenager to
help me. Rebellion. Got it.)
So, sometimes you just have to take
the bull by both horns.
Sending a seriously crabby email (this
One Red Cent was in her own rebellious mood); I asked just what the heck I was
paying for.
I’ve seen the little window pop up,
and I know that they have the remarkable ability to access my poot
remotely! So, why should I have to sit
through all of their idiotic procedures for a program that I never wanted in
the first place?
“You’re going to have to allow me
remote control, and the current queue is 70 minutes long.”
And pawing at the ground like a
bull, I stood my ground, ever at the ready.
“Thank you” I typed, most kindly.
BRING IT.
*snort*
>>><<<
Lastly, aroused during a pleasant mid-day
catnap, I awoke to yet another mechanical voice on my landline from my
telephone/computer service jarring me into calling their 800 number lest my
account catastrophically collapse.
WTF???
“Hi and hello, I paid my bill the
day after I received it in the mail” I explained truthfully to ‘Ethan’, who
tappety-tap-tapped on his computer during the majority of our conversation. ”Yes, I received your email a week ago
identifying my usual monthly bill” I continued, “but I write actual checks to pay my bills.”
And baffled by a dinosaur such as
myself, Ethan continued on with his scripted dialogue...
“So, just to be clear, may we use
your cell phone to send you text alerts when upgrades are available?”
“Absolutely not” I replied, feeling
very much like a bull about to tear down the streets of Pamplona and gore him
long distance in the belly.
(Hey, I’m an Actor by trade, and I
respect the written script handed to me, but sometimes you need to be aware
when your fellow Actor in a scene has fallen off the same page.)
“Sooo, you really DON’T want to be
contacted in advance by any form of social media?” simple, stupid well-meaning Ethan
sat ever-so confused, confounded that not everything in the world must be
handled with whack-a-doodle technology.
(Feel free to insert some sort of
rolling eyes emoticon here.)
>>><<<
And just when I thought I’d finally tackled
the bull by the horns...
*ring...ring...ring*
Yes, kind readers, a fax machine is
now apparently in love with my cell phone and calls the private number five
times a minute every morning with cheery beeps.
(Good grief...)
Maybe some days, we’re all snuffed
by the bull?
Unplugging everything for a few
hours, but always hopeful for a better tomorrow!
*snort*
~P
