The Old Coot makes a call. Ouch!

I called to reschedule a doctor’s appointment the other day. Not my idea; I made the original appointment seven months ago, but “they” needed to change it. Anyhow, that’s what the message on my answering machine said. I swear they watch my house before calling. When I leave, they call and leave a message, forcing me to call them and go through the tortuous call center process. 

So, I poured myself a cup of coffee, grabbed a good book, found a comfortable chair, put the phone on speaker and settled in for the “process.” The first step with health providers is designed to get rid of you. “If you are calling with a health emergency, hang up and dial 911.” Mine wasn’t an emergency, not yet, but I was guessing it might be by the time I finished. Then came the usual, -Push 1, push 2, etc., to get me in the right line. There are a lot of lines: the refill prescription line, the billing inquiry line, the lab results line and at the end of a long list, the one I wanted, the speak to a human line. 

Then came lie #1, “We’ll be with you shortly,” followed by lie #2, “Your call is important to us.” And a confession, “This call may be monitored.” I picture a room full of operators, lounging around on overstuffed couches, sipping Margaritas, listening to callers yell into their phones while waiting. I’m sure they get an earful, and end up rolling on the floor in hysterical laughter. I start my yelling right after I get the, “Your call is important,” message; I yell, “Liar, liar, pants on fire.” It makes me feel better. 

After that, the worst elevator music you can imagine starts to play, interrupted every few minutes by a self-promoting message, “Our wound care center is the place to go to heal that old sore that won’t go away”. The “ads” you are barraged with are endless; it makes you look forward to the music. Talk about taking advantage of a captive audience. About every five minutes a different interruption comes on from the computer program managing the queue, reminding you that all the operators are busy, your call is important and they’ll be with you shortly. 

Suddenly, the routine stops; you hear a ring tone. “Oh boy! I’m being routed to a person!” It’s such a disappointment when you’re not. You’re back at the starting point and a new round of awful music and annoying self-promotion ads start all over again. That’s when I give the operators sitting around sipping Margaritas their best laughs of the day. 

Ultimately, I get through to a person who can reschedule my appointment. I tell them my name and why I’m calling. They respond with, “When is your birthday?” I want to say, “Why? Are you going to send me a present for enduring this process?” But, instead, like the sheep I’ve become during my long wait, I say, “Baa, Baa,” and give them the information. And to think, people wonder what us old retired guys do to occupy our time. 

Comments? Complaints? Send to mlessler7@gmail.com.