This is the third day I’ve tried to contact a human being at the electric company. Maybe there are no human beings at the electric company anymore. All I get is one of those annoying automated messages telling me the options have changed and to listen carefully before making my choice. Then once I decide which button to push, I get a request to enter my account number.
It’s not that I don’t have it handy. I do. But I never key account numbers into my phone, because my experience is that the human I finally reach has no access to them. Perhaps the automated menu uses the account number to rout my call, but I’ve often asked the human – when at last we’ve met – if he or she can pull up my account. The answer has always been “No.”
So I push “O” and am told that is not a valid account number. I push “O” again. And again. Finally, I hear the longed-for “I’ll transfer you to a representative who can help you now.” But I know I’m still minutes away from reaching a human.
Next comes the admonition that if I want faster service I should go to the company’s website, which has been designed to be user-friendly. I hate this ad for any website; because if I wanted to go to there, I would have done it in the first place.
Public service announcements follow. I learn what to do if I smell gas (although I’m calling the electric company), that I should never use an oven to heat my home (although it’s the middle of July and we’re having a heat wave), and that if I’m experiencing a power outage I’ve called the wrong number. Finally, there’s chirpy music.
I hang in there, answering emails and paying bills, putting the dead time to use. Sometimes I even give myself a manicure or write thank you notes. Time passes. At last I hear the recognizable click that means a real live (redundant terminology here, but oh such relief) person has come on the line. By this time I must work hard not to take my frustration out on this customer service representative who can help me.
In the end, he really is helpful; and, after all, it’s not his fault he’s the last human at ConEd.
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