I, in my quest to lower bills and make sure that I am getting the best rate, deal, price or what have you, have discovered some things. I’ve concluded that most people decide that the extra ten bucks a month for cable, phone or internet is simply worth not having to try to access a human being. Accessing a human being would be step one, while connecting with one that is both literate and knowledgeable seems to be a task akin to locating Jimmy Hoffa.

I wanted the best cable/phone/internet combo package for the best price. This should be a reasonably simply task, I thought. When I embarked on a touch tone adventure into a myriad of options and choices I began to suspect that there was not an actual human being anywhere remotely near the call center I had reached. Upon entering account numbers, PINs, addresses, the last four of my Social Security Number, and my birthday, (which I had to do twice because I neglected to insert a zero before a single digit); I then had to answer security questions. Who was my best childhood friend? What was the name of my first grade teacher? And please someone, anyone remind my which pet I used as an answer to that damn question. I was waiting for the automated voice, who I had named Suzy by now, to ask for my second cousin’s daughter’s sister’s home address spelled backward.

After answering a barrage of questions that made the LSATs look like a cereal box quiz, I moved into the next phase of, “Try to Access a Human.” Apparently they were very sorry, but they were experiencing a larger than normal call volume. Grrr. Would I like to perhaps hang up and try again later? Really? I had just spent fifteen minutes pushing numbers and reciting the names of teachers from three decades ago. There would be no turning back, no trying again later. No Siree. I’d just put the phone on speaker and go about my business while I waited ... and waited. And then I would just plug my phone in to charge after the battery life was depleted from waiting ... and waiting. The muzaq they play is designed, no doubt, to make you hang up and ease their larger than normal call volume. I had not heard that particular rendition of Tony Orlando and Dawn’s, “Knock Three Times,” so all was not lost. And then, behold a break in the torturous elevator music. Could it be?

Aha. It was Charles in Sales and Service. Never a sweeter sound had I heard than his literate and clear voice. He was friendly and articulate; it was a caller’s dream come true, indeed. But, alas, after hearing my reason for calling it was determined that I should be redirected to Customer Service. Please, I begged, don’t you have a magical transfer button to alleviate the holding and musaq-ing? Charles said he sympathized and didn’t know why they were so short staffed in the call center; he would do his best to transfer me directly.

Away I went, back into the fiber optic maze of holding. Luckily someone was quick to pick up at the other end. This was Ashlynn and she would be happy to help me. Oh, Charles, I thought, I’m sorry I ever doubted you.  Ash listened to my issues and was certain something could be done to improve my rate for services and she agreed that I should have the low price I’d seen advertised. What was my account number? She couldn’t pull up my account for some reason, despite her best effort. What was my zip code? 13420? That would explain things. Somehow, while I was trapped in the land of transfers, holding and satellites over the course of 57 minutes, I had been transferred to a local call center ... in Charlotte, North Carolina.