I visited Bangladesh or even possibly Katmandu, the other day. I’m not sure which.
I love to travel, and, in fact, to visit such an exotic place as Katmandu, could be very exciting, since many of the mountaineering stories I enjoy get their start in Katmandu.
However, I wasn’t readying myself for a high altitude adventure, no, I was merely attempting to contact a company’s customer service department. A year or so ago, when I had occasion to call to the same department, I was quickly routed to a human of obvious Midwestern USA origins.
My questions were quickly and efficiently answered, a solution to my problem soon found. I ended the call and I moved on to other tasks. So this time, when I sat down to make my call, I assumed that within a few minutes I’d have the problem resolved, and could head for the dinner table—since my wife had advised me that: “Dinner is ready!” (The exclamation mark is hers.) I foolishly answered that I’d “be there in a minute.” I didn’t know of my pending visit to the other side of the world.
The first change I discovered when I dialed the almost familiar number was, that the first “person” to take my call wasn’t. It was some recording of another Mid-westerner, a gentleman who decided that this would be a good time for me to tell my life story, and answer few hundred pointless questions; in order for him to: “direct your call to the proper department.” He also electronically informed me that: “Your call is very important to us, so please be patient.” What he didn’t say was, and should have said, is: “I’m not a real person, I don’t sleep, drink, drive, or eat dinner, so honestly, I don’t care how long this takes.”
Something else I noticed, was that the outfit who had recorded this electronic waste of time, included special little tricks and phrases, like: “Okay, I get that.”, or “ Just a minute while I jot this down.” That would have been quite an achievement for our robotic whiz. Minutes later, (after receiving several other ignored dinner reminders) I was transferred to a real person. In Katmandu. Or Bangladesh. “What is your name?” he asked, adding: “Mine is Bob.” At least I think he said Bob.
“What is the nature of your problem?” I could have told him that at that very moment, I had just had my dinner dumped in my lap, but I knew he wasn’t interested in a difficulty of that sort. I attempted to explain to “Bob“, just what the reason for my far-reaching call was, but I quickly realized that frankly, he didn’t grasp my problem anymore than I understood his solution.
My wife was threatening another food delivery, so I finished my call by asking Bob, “How’s the weather there in Katmandu?” There was a pause. “I am sorry sir, I am unable to give that information.”
So, I hung up, realizing that the only question that I asked that he could have possibly answered in a way that I could understand, was off limits. So was my trip to Katmandu.
I later noticed the company had a website, and a customer service link. I wonder, do you suppose Bob will be the one to man the website as well?
And by the way, tell me if you can, just what is this little gizmo?