I watched a TV show about “mediums,” also called “spirit mediums,” who purportedly set up communication between the living and the dead. This medium put a man in touch with the spirit of his great-great-grandfather, Willy, who some pirates supposedly hanged. I’d rather have spoken to the pirates, but that’s me.
The medium contacted Willy quicker than I can contact my wife, who was in the next room checking the dog for ear mites. You might think someone hanged by the neck with tongue protrusion might be challenging to understand, and need speech lessons, but not great-great-grandfather Willy. He came through crystal clear.
These spirits never seem to be busy. They always appear to be floating around, waiting for you to call. I’ve seen a few of these shows, and the one thing humans and spirits have in common is that they both hang up on telemarketers.
We live in an age where it’s easier to contact the great beyond than the great nearby. Growing up, if you walked into a store, you’d hear, “Get the phone; it might be a customer.” People were reachable. Now I find it nearly impossible to contact any living being unless I have a gas leak or owe them money.
These days, every place you call, you hear, “Please listen carefully because we have recently changed our prompts.” One hundred million American businesses all changed their prompts the same day. I’ve never met anyone who memorized even one prompt. I care as much about their prompt changes as they care about my underwear changes.
Americans waste a collective 900 million hours a year on hold, or on average 42 days of their life. At 72, life is too short to spend whatever time I have left listening to American Airlines’ new prompts.
But what’s with the prompt changing? Was anyone dissatisfied with the old prompt system? I loved the old system. It was perfect. Now you hear that Al Goldberg, who was prompt 42, is now 81, and Sylvia Swift, who was 86, is now 43. Ralph Patrick is now Mindy Swanson — like their gender changes, they change their prompts almost daily.
Then, at the end, you get to hit the pound sign, my favorite. I love hitting the pound. I feel my job isn’t over until I hit the pound. The pound is like the judge’s gavel. The pound makes it official. Or you can hold for the operator, and when the operator finally comes on, you’re promptly de-prompted and then disconnected.
The system I hate more than fascism is the one where you respond verbally. This thing is so sensitive to sound that if someone sneezes in Peru, it throws the whole thing out of whack. I’ve been at home trying to answer their questions verbally and have gone rabies-mad at my family making noise. “Everyone shut up…” You need to dig one of those drug cartel tunnels from Mexico to the US to get the necessary quiet.
And don’t get me started on passwords and apps. Almost all new apps on my iPhone don’t have the name of the company, just a logo. UBER still says UBER. YELP says YELP. I get it. How can I remember what company a feather in a hat is? I went to what I thought was the UCLA medical app to book a colonoscopy and instead booked myself for a flea bath at the vet’s office.
So, what do I do? It all boils down to the serenity prayer: “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” The world is changing faster than a speeding bullet, and I feel like I’m chasing it with a pogo stick. If I have a stroke one day, it won’t be from not exercising or not eating well. It will be from being put on hold. Everywhere I call to prove it’s me, they want my birthday. Then they switch me to someone else who also wants to know my birthday. Not one of them has ever sent a gift. For God’s sake, will someone pick up the phone and simply say Hello?
Mark Schiff is a comedian, actor and writer, and hosts, along with Danny Lobell, the “We Think It’s Funny” podcast. His new book is “Why Not? Lessons on Comedy, Courage and Chutzpah.”
