I really don’t like talking to machines. 

There’s answering machines, voice mail, and my favorite … the big-corporation-automated-menu-you’ll-never-talk-to-a-real-person-thing.

Now, I don’t mind the fact that everybody has an answering machine these days because it sure cuts down on miscommunication.  I’m never quite sure, however, that the person actually got the message until I actually speak with them directly (case in point:  if one of my children listens to one of my messages before I do, the chances of it getting to me are miniscule).  The concept of answering machines is good, though.

But when I call someone and the machine picks up, I get stage fright.  First of all, I can’t take anything back, so it has to be correct and to the point the first time I say it.  This is difficult for a person like me.  Sometimes it comes out like this: “Oh, hi!  How’re you doing?  Oh, yeah, you can’t hear me.  Anyway, I was wondering if you all would like to come over Saturday night?  Call me.”  Then I have to call back: “Um, by the way, this is Sarah.  Call me.  Oh, yeah, I already said that.”

Next, you can’t ask questions like, “Suzy, do you remember that dress I wanted to borrow?”  You have to pretend she knows what you’re talking about, and you leave the message anyway, and if she doesn’t remember, she thinks you are an idiot.

Then if you by chance get the wrong person’s answering machine, you’ll probably never know it.  One time I got two messages … the first was a long, detailed message from “John” apologizing profusely because he was going to be late for our dinner party.  The next was another apology because he wasn’t going to be able to make it at all.  I have no idea who John is.  The dinner party sounded fun, though.  If he had left a number, maybe I could have gone in his place.

Answering machines take getting used to, but I’m doing well in that department.  The introduction of the automated phone systems that just about all large corporations use these days, however, is enough to drive anyone crazy.

When I call, I just want to talk to a person.  Instead, I get a machine.

“If you want English, press ‘1’,” it begins.  When I hear that, it’s the equivalent of hearing a telemarketer say, “Hello, Mrs. Higgins.  How are you tonight?”  Both make me want to run through the house screaming, “No!!!!  Not again!!!”

Recently I really needed to talk to a person about getting something changed on one of my bills.  I got a machine instead.

I pushed “1”, then “3”, then “1”, then “4”, then I was told to punch in my eighteen-digit account number.

Even an agile person with very good eyesight has trouble with this feat when asked.  It might as well be a hundred digits.

I finally punched all the buttons I was supposed to, and then I was asked if they could use my name on a publicly published list.  I knew enough to know this meant they were going to sell the list and I would be getting all sorts of new telemarketers calling me.  I pressed “2” for “I decline this offer”.

Next, I was told to please hold because all available representatives were busy.  I was told not to hang up.  Advertisements were piped in and began repeating over and over.  I was on hold for more than twenty minutes.  I was told again and again not to hang up.  I got to where I could say the ads along with “the voice”. 

A new voice came on and said, “Our office is now closed.  Our office hours are 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. Monday through Friday.  Please call again.”

I glanced at the clock … it was 3:30.  I decided it had been a bad decision when I told the machine earlier “I decline”. 

I had been punished.  By a machine.