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Wednesday 16 May 2012

PLEASE HOLD THE LINE UNTIL YOU DIE


I have serious ire for automated phone systems. Needless to say, I am disturbed as I’m sure many of you are, when I call up somewhere to talk to a human being and am met by a pseudo human being that prompts me to go from one place in the cyber phone abyss (or hell, as I call it) to another, until I am trapped in some endless maze that costs me ten pounds (dollars) a minute and gets me absolutely nowhere. Ah futility, you've got to love it.

This happened to me the other day when I was trying to call my credit card company (bank, mileage plus program, school, doctor, store…mother’s house; just kidding mom) to answer a simple question about my account. Ah yes, the automated systems make nothing simple; in fact, they are designed to drive you freaking bonkers and shave years off your life. In fact, it’s hard to determine what part of the whole automated experience that drives me the most nuts. The antiseptic, saccharine, moronic woman’s voice that tries to soothe me through the process (why is it always a woman?)…or the fifty years you spend on the phone trying to get to the right department before being disconnected? Or the kicker, the phone bill at the end of the month that makes your eyeballs bulge because you forgot it was not a 1-800 number (as I’m calling international half the time, 800 numbers are lost on me).

Moreover, the woman on the phone always seems to want to funnel you to a website or a delightfully informative series of prompts that are designed to anticipate your questions (but never seem to have answers to any pertinent questions), and most importantly, never seem to give me the prompt that says, "press four if you are enraged and want to speak to a human being – that is not in a call center in India - that can actually answer your question for you!" I’m one of those people that just keeps pushing the number zero until either someone comes on the line or the phone blows up. I of course simultaneously curse out the robot that is telling me how to reach the right department and tell her what I truly think of her and the company that created her.

Needless to say, by the end of the phone call, I’m irritated, foul mouthed, and have usually forgotten why I was calling in the first place as the phone call takes so darn long. Of course, the whole design of these systems is to save the company money, which makes me even more annoyed, as the person paying for the lengthy phone call is MOI, the consumer. You see how many different ways we get screwed?

The other day I actually got put through to a person in under five seconds. I was so shocked I became a stuttering mess and couldn’t actually articulate what I needed. It was somewhat embarrassing, and yet, by the end of the phone call I practically invited the woman to tea because she was so darn 'up with people' (any of you that don't know the reference, it's worth the Google) and helpful.

You see, John Q Public has simple needs and desires. Just have a real blood pumping heart and talk to us in a non-robotic voice, and next thing you know, we will sign up for another year, take out another credit card or triple our cable package. I’m telling you, we’re suckers like that. 


Monday 14 May 2012

ANTICIPATION


I’m one of those people that loves anticipation. In fact, I think it should be bottled like a non-smelling, emotive perfume and spread throughout the world. Cause let’s be frank, anticipation is not only a very tangible thing, but we as humans need anticipation. It’s that little something that is always on the horizon reminding us that we are not stagnate, or if I can be so blunt, that despite the far off destination of death, we always have things to look forward to, damn it! I suppose a Buddhist would say anticipation is not very zen, but then again, always being in the now is just tedious. Yeah, I said it.

At the moment, I have several things I’m anticipating – and I’m not talking about the little things like: sleep, dinner, or sunshine – although any of those things would be very welcomed, first and foremost the sun, as I haven’t seen it in about two months (I wish I were kidding). Before I continue, let’s be clear, I’m also not talking about the everyday anticipation, such as how I feel before my morning coffee – although that is not something to scoff at. I’m talking about those things you painstakingly plan (or phone in a rush job, whichever you prefer) during the year and look at your calendar like a drooling Labrador cause you know how badly you want the day to come (Heinz Ketchup gave anticipation such a lame rap. Seriously, it's Ketchup. Who cares).

Before you start thinking, oh this poor woman is setting very high expectations for herself, I must remind you that I’m also part jaded cynic, so that takes care of being defeated by the event in question not living up to expectations. You see, thanks to my writer's brain I run through every possibility and scenario that could occur (although there have been some definite surprises along the way) and that way all my bases are covered. If it’s great, even better. If it kind of sucks, well I’m sure I can find a silver lining in there somewhere – cause my amusement is all in the details.

So, on the topic of grand anticipation, next week my husband and I (I’m getting better at saying that, aren’t I?) are off on honeymoon. And the anticipation I feel for that short blip in our lives is keeping me up at night – then again, what doesn’t? In short, I’m so darn excited to escape to a sunny climate with no King in sight (sorry Muffin, but mamma needs some serious adult time with her baby daddy) that I have already packed my bags. Okay, I’m exaggerating, but I’m pretty darn close. So, needless to say, my palpable anticipation is what is getting me through the fact that I wake up every night at 3 or 4 in the morning and then have to chase the King around from sunrise to sundown.

You see why anticipation is so important?! But, as I said, being a realist, I’ve also told myself that if for some freak reason the place where we are going experiences some unseasonal typhoon, I will roll with it. In fact, I will more than roll with it. I will take my stack of books and magazines, park it on a huge soft comfy sofa like Jabba the Hut (hopefully this is not how I look in a bikini), watch the rain and marvel at the fact that for five days, I have nothing to do but decide which SPF to put on (I promise mother it's 30 plus).

Happy Monday. 


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