June 8, 2009
I am not going mad.
It is the world.
This, I swear, was not an auditory hallucination.
I had made a water bill payment, an ‘electronic check’ payment delivered and authorized over the phone to whichever middleman-bandit reaps a fee for collecting and relaying my money to a utility company. I phoned the water company in order to give them the [cough -- splutter] confirmation code they claim to require in order to credit my account.
The line was busy. I was put on hold. As I waited, I listened to a canned news feed, complete with commercial interruption.
I was encouraged to visit Israel by a voice claiming an association with the Reverend Jack Graham. I was urged to visit http://www.goisrael.com.
A jingly chorus reinforced the message, urging me to “Go Israel — You’ll ne-ver be the sa-a-me!”
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Funny to see this here, Sheila, since just this morning, after being put on hold, I thought of the response I am going to give from now on when asked if I could please hold: “Only if there is no sound.”
No sound is worse. You can never tell if you’ve been disconnected.
If you call the company I work for, I control the hold music. Right now it’s “Fight On Your Time Aint Long!” which is a Mississippi records release featuring found gospel music from the 1940′s. I’m sure all the industrial salespeople appreciate this. Not.
I wouldn’t mind some Best of Parliament/Funkadelic, but by and large, just put me on hold and shut the fuck up.
And I’d be happy to hear anything Amanda Mae chose, except that if a live human interrupted what I was listening to, I’d have to ask them to start the song again and play it through to the end.
Amanda, please try to find a way to control the hold music for the world.
Thank you.
Instead of Go Israel, it could have been a jingle for Ferryman Funeral Homes or Red Wigglers – The Cadillac of Worms.
The Cadillac of Worms. Well, I’ll be.
True, Frank. I think I was just suffering a minor attack of apocalyptic-world-view.
I would be okay with fart noises. Or a foley medley.
Or is that The Cadillac of Würms? The mechanization of everything. . . .