Waiting on the phone for Verizon. All I wanted to do was pay them. Before this I was waiting online with the company, Asurian Enterprise, that was supposed to be responsible for fixing my daughter’s cracked screen. Yesterday the gent at Russel Cellular told me to call the number, they’d come by and fix the phone. I asked my younger one to manage it. It’s her phone after all. She didn’t like this but dutifully called and was told it was an AT&T number. Calling back Russel Cellular just now they confirmed that I’d been given the wrong number. The right number doesn’t want to talk to me. They do everything in their power to get you to fill out a form online. I pursued the phone option as long as I could until they asked for a pin I couldn’t properly identify. I handed the online option off my daughter in a huff and was surprised when she ended the call with me in a huff.
Now I am in an endless loop with Verizon. The song is horrible. An uninspired hook that builds the slightest tension and releases it clumsily. It’s faintly murmuring from my phone on the table beside me. The robot had told me I would have a seven-to-nine-minute wait. Twenty-three minutes later I hung it up and started over. Yelling at a robot. “Human being! Human being! Now I am back with the jazz loop with the vague sense that now it is the hold queue for billing which will certainly be shorter than the queue for whatever I was in before. This is the experience for when I want to more rapidly give them money. God only knows what it’s like for when I expect some additive service to me, from them.
The house is hot. I have a long-sleeved shirt on. It’s the same one I had last night. I’m not wearing it for fashion or for temperature but because my left forearm looks as though I have smallpox. It is oozing puss and blood, aflame with a poison ivy reaction. I’m not sure just what seething bush I brushed against, but it got me good. I could feel it coming on Friday. Now it’s Sunday and I’ve been putting calamine lotion on every few hours, hoping it would dry up the mess, but it hasn’t arrested anything. This clammy, irritated sense is adding to my irritation as I wait for a Verizon representative to relieve me from this muzak.
This is aging, I suppose. You become more annoyed than ever at the futility of what most people take for granted. Why persevere in trying to speak with a human being? This is old fashioned. This is a sign of insanity or senility. It will only get worse. How long before there is an overt premium to pay for speaking to a human, rather than a robot. Is it my stupidity to believe them when they say the wait time will be eleven minutes and then get frustrated now as I check and notice we’re closing in on sixteen minutes? “I believed you. Again.” Shame on you, you fool.
It’s cloudy outside. But it isn’t supposed to rain. Waiting online I managed to finish an uninspired daily blog. Now I’ll go over to the floor behind me and meditate for thirty minutes and then go take the bike ride I didn’t have time for yesterday.
Monday 07/19/21
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