I am beginning to doubt the sincerity of your words. None of the fifteen pre-recorded options were applicable to my situation, so now I listen to music I do not enjoy. Your voice resurfaces every two minutes, insisting that I am important to you, that you will be with me shortly, that all available representatives are helping other customers.
I have diligently typed in my account number, phone and the last four digits of my social, but we both know that I will have to repeat everything again when a human voice emerges. So, I wait patiently for the mystical forces to align in my favor.
My mind wanders, imagining all the things I could be doing. Foolishly, I have forgotten to prepare a task that can be accomplished while I hold a phone to my ear. Of course, I could set you on speaker phone, but in the shock of hearing a living human being, I may push the wrong button and disconnect. Then I would be doomed to dial again and be at the end of the queue. Like a fickle lover you know that I need you more than you need me. So, I wait, and hope, that in the next five minutes your will deign to speak to me.
Twenty-five minutes have passed, and I continue to wait, hearing once again how important my call is to you.
I'm Frances Jaeger, and that is my perspective.