Oh! You Are From France!

Have you ever been lost in one of those automated phone trees, desperately trying to get a simple question answered?

Have you found yourself growing more and more frustrated and lamenting the whole process? Even feeling a little silly when you consider that you are conversing not with a person but with a disembodied, automated voice, and eventually wanted to kill that non-person?

This recently happened to me, with a very unexpected result.

I had a business trip to Chicago and there had been bad weather in the mid-west along with possible delays and cancelations, so I wanted to check my departure time. Weather can play havoc with the schedules at hub airports like Chicago and it seemed like a good idea to check before going to the airport.

I called the airline 800 number and soon was connected to the airline’s robotic phone tree voice. My journey was just beginning in more ways than one.

I know the intent of these systems is to eliminate the expense of hiring customer service reps and I can understand that on a certain level — even airlines need to make a buck right? And you could make a case it is an attempt to provide the best service at the lowest cost.

And yet I have a nagging (even paranoid) suspicion that the point of automatic answering systems and phone trees is not customer satisfaction but a sadistic exercise in antagonizing humans.

On a more personal level, my brother recently revealed that part of his job involved installing and maintaining these types of systems. I won’t say that he’s been officially shunned by the family, but unofficially, we all think he’s evil and refuse to talk to him.

The robotic voice on the other end of the phone was cheery and bright, but a little halting and not helpful at all.

You know, “If you are calling to check a reservation, press one. If your anger and impatience are building and you are currently suppressing an urge to break your phone, take a deep breath and, press two.” etc.

I know that the second part of that is made up, but hey, it’s honest. The world could use more honestly in my humble opinion. And I did contemplate breaking my phone — twice, by the way.

So I was led down one branch of the phone tree after another, each a dead end. The minutes started to pile up and the frustration began to build. On and on it went, another question, another set of numeric options to choose from, another dead end.

Finally I seemed to be making progress (albeit at a glacial pace), but just as success appeared to be in my grasp, the voice reverted back to the beginning and asked: “What is your destination?”

“What is my destination!?!?!”

This was all that I could take.

I snapped, involuntarily letting loose with a string of expletives. You know, SHIT, FUCK, PISS, SHIT (again), and so on.

Loudly and uncontrollably. Words that I have not used in years and never in that sequence — yet at that moment, I meant every single one as deeply and emphatically as a human can.

And the voice calmly and cheerily responded.

“You are from France!”

I gave up and went to the airport.