Whatever you do, don’t sneeze into voice mail while you’re doing your banking by phone—you’ll end up sending your assets to Kazakstan. Oh, sure, you might get them back one day, but do you know of a Trader Joe’s that accepts tenges? Didn’t think so.

On the day that I inadvertently coughed and sneezed my way into voicemail purgatory while attempting to reach a human so I could resolve a deposit issue, I realized just how fed up I’d become with automation. I had been trying to be a good sport, to “go with the flow,” but the “flow” was not returning the favor.

It seems to me that the countries to whom we’ve outsourced our jobs owe us a little consideration. The least they could do is to include in their voicemail system a cough and sneeze-detecting feature which would automatically trigger a commiserative response such as:
“Çok ya?a! Size tavsiye verece?im. Nyquil size yard?m edecek. Uyumak için, umumiyetle geceleyin Nyquil. . .” Oh, sorry, that was the “Press One” version.

For English, “Press Two”:
“Geez, that sounds kind of bad—have you tried Nyquil—the nighttime-sniffling-sneezing-coughing-stuffy-head-fever-so-you-can-rest medicine? You say it didn’t work? Perhaps then you should talk to your doct—oh, you don’t have one…sorry about that…well, hope you get better soon…” That wouldn’t be too much to ask, would it?

Even more frustrating have been my attempts to resolve problems with customer service departments via email. In particular, I’m thinking about an interaction I recently had with Hoo-Rah, my email service provider. I know a little something about communication deficits from years spent working in a stroke rehabilitation center, and I would have to say that while Hoo-Rah’s expressive skills are adequate, their receptive skills hover near the low end of the bell curve.

For the purposes of this discussion, let’s pretend that Hoo-Rah is a fruit vendor. Just go with me on this because it’s much easier to illustrate my dilemma by using fruit as an example than it would be to bore you with the maddening details of my so-called communication with them.

My “conversation” went something like this: “Dear Hoo-Rah, I would like to buy a crate of oranges. Do you have any in stock?”

The reply arrived two days later. “Dear Ms. Sorenson, you are a valuable customer to Hoo-Rah and we are glad to give you consistent and effective service. This is Joseph from Hoo-Rah Customer Care. We really think your home could use another coat of paint.”

After a few eye blinks and a couple of deep breaths, I decided to give Joseph the benefit of the doubt—perhaps he was having a bad email day (it could happen to anyone), a hangover, or maybe his dog had just died. I wrote back, calm and earnest, filled with love and light.

“Perhaps I did not make myself clear, Joseph. What I meant to say was that I really need some oranges. Do you have any? Thanks in advance for your help.”

Joseph replied: “We’re very sorry for your problems. But, if you would please get up from your chair, turn around three times while hopping on your left foot, we’re certain the problem will go away. Thank you for contacting Hoo-Rah Customer Care.”

At this point my hands trembled with the desire to snake through cyberspace, to grab him by the throat and slap him around, but I held back knowing that the knock on my door would come all too soon.

I calmed down and wrote again: “Dear Joseph, what part of ‘I need a crate of oranges’ do you NOT understand?”

This time it was “Jack” who answered: “Dear Ms. Sorenson, thank you for allowing us to resolve your problem with Hoo-Rah. If we can be of assistance in the future, please contact us.”

No! No! No! By now, I couldn’t take it any more. I’d been reduced to a mewling, puking, whimpering mess, with nothing left to do but slump over in my chair, cry my fruitless tears, then decide on a new email service.

Filled with great expectation, I dialed the Customer Service number for SOL and got routed into the voicemail queue. OH, NO.
“….For English, press two…”

Rosie Sorenson’s work has appeared in the San Francisco Chronicle, the Contra Costa Times, and the Berkeley Daily Planet. Her essays have also been broadcast on KQED-FM as part of its Perspectives series. Her essay “Safe Haven” was named Listener Favorite for 2006. She won Honorable Mention in the Erma Bombeck International Writing Contest. Her work also appears in the upcoming 25th Anniversary edition of Mobius, the Poetry Journal. Readers can read more of her work at www.damngoodwriters.com.