Waiting

 

A cyber-field of spaghettified cables stretch between my thoughts and the potential of acceptance. Waiting is nothing more than a consumption of coffee and wracked nerves. I walk barefoot amidst a vast array of adjectives, straining to express my frustration, all the while listening to a scratchy rendition of Moon River. A seemingly deep and endless river.

 Hold music has become the gristle of progress. It is an ignored byproduct of technology. In the haste of expediency, we have trimmed away all pleasantries, and exchanged human interaction for obscure, pre-recorded mall music, continually interrupted by, “Your call is important to us. Please stay on the line and your call will be answered in the order it was received.” 

 I can’t really say that I am a fan of hold music or of the companies suggesting their calls may be recorded for training and quality purposes.  Here’s a thought you can record for training: strap your CEO into his or her chair and force them to listen to their own hold music.  Go in and check on them at least twice a week.  Feed them only at lunch and designated break times.

 I’m guessing changes will be made.  Customers will once again have their calls answered by a person, and on the first or second ring.  Profits will increase, business will grow and World Peace will magically happen overnight.