The End of the World is Nigh!

I planned my call to the motor vehicle department for a time when I’d be able to sit with the phone on “speaker” and I had plenty to do, because any time you call ANY customer service number, especially one associated with a government bureaucracy, you’re gonna spend hours on hold.

The whole thing took about 5 minutes, total, and involved two key presses following the initial dialing.

Five minutes on a customer service call.

And it only took that long because they wasted time saying “Please listen carefully because some of our options may have changed.”

I never understood that, anyway. Because, hello, I’ve never called before, so how would I know if the options were different, hmmm? And what’s with the “may have” crap? Don’t you KNOW if you’ve changed your options around?

But, I digress.

They also spent a few seconds telling me to check their website because most of my issues might be resolved there. I made a note. I have plenty of issues, of course, and I’m anxious to have them resolved, so you can bet I’ll be visiting that website soon.

The very first, very first option choice after all that introductory fol de rol was to press 1 to speak to a representative. Holy dial tone, Batman! I mean, MOST cust. svc. centers never give you that option, and if you’re lucky you can get to a human being by pounding on the keys at random to confuse the system and then they get on the phone to tell you to knock it off. But here, it was the first option.

I pressed 1.

I then got into another few seconds-long time waster where they read me the rules about Level 1 and Level 2 reps, and how I should not give personal details to the Level 1 rep (the first person I would speak to), but if they needed personal details they’d switch me over to a Level 2. I imagined that they hired, like, psychos and stalkers for their level 1 reps so I was a bit nervous, but I held on. I had to press “1” again to say “yes, yes, I understand, now connect me to the psycho, for goodness’ sake”.

Here’s where they’d make me wait hours and play poorly recorded techno rap while I waited, is what I figured. I settled in, scooped a spoonful of my lunch into my mouth and then I heard a “click” and the alleged axe murderer was asking me how she could help me.

I sputtered a bit, wasting a few more valuable seconds of time, then started to explain my needs and she interrupted and said, “of course, all you need to do is …” and gave me very clear, concise instructions. In unaccented English.

I am now humbly awaiting the arrival of the four horsemen.