A Brood Of Ducks (2)

            I must have made a noise that, in visual print, would look like- “Shee!” With that, my nose loosened. But, it didn’t fall completely off. I now have it shored up with duct-tape.               

            The agent disregarded my cri de nez, and told me that taking the customer service experience survey is totally voluntary. But, that if I didn’t take it, I was a bad person. He patiently explained that the survey consists of one question: “Were you satisfied with the call?” He told me that a response anywhere from seven to ten would make it obvious that the problem could have been easily solved, and that I shouldn’t have called in the first place. They would assume that I was dumb, and that would go in my record.

            To my silence, the agent added, “It’s okay to be dumb! I suggest you give a high response. It takes all kinds.”

            “No, it doesn’t!” I cried. “And, considering the perspective of your company, how could I be satisfied? I’m not sitting here with my head in my lap or insisting on being called ‘Bartholomew’.”

            “Well, then, that leads us down to the bottom of the scale,” the agent said. “For example, a response of three to one means that you feel the problem wasn’t solved, and that warrants a fleet of prickly drones being sent to persuade you to take the total-body reboot option.”

            “What about doors four through six?” I quipped.

            “I wasn’t finished,” the agent said. “With one through three, they might settle on just selling you an alternate head, but I wouldn’t want a fleet of prickly drones coming to my door with anything. Fresh head or no. You don’t either. Now. With numbers four through six, we would just assume that you’re shooting for the middle, and continue to send reminders of your precarious condition. You’d be so tied up with friendly reminders that you wouldn’t even be able to piss in a socially-acceptable manner. And, a word of advice. The middle is no-man’s land. Whatever response you give, don’t use five!”

            In retrospect, in respect to communication, I feel that evolution has come up with quite the crude patch between flesh and machine. I realized that we are evolving in an odd direction, and that this Customer Service Agent was a good example of that. But, I was amazed with the things he was coming up with.

            “So,” he said, “I know that you’re a good person, in fact, I consider you a friend. So, I’ll ask you right away, on a scale of one to ten, with one not being satisfied, and ten being completely satisfied, what number would you use to rate this call?”

            I blurted- “5!”

            Then came the dreaded silence.

            “Please indicate your response.”

            “5!” I cried. “I’m thinking 5! Can’t see it, can ya? I don’t recognize your company. I don’t care anymore! Your company- and all of this- are neutral to me. I can’t think of any other number that would work!”

            “Well, I can certainly hear you, but there’s no number registering in the system. I’m looking at the transcript band, and all I see with your response is a blank among your All Caps. And, I’m glad that no number registered. You remember what I told you about ‘fives’.

            “It didn’t register because I gave a numeral!”

            The agent ignored that.

            “Now you have a second chance. Keep in mind that our system doesn’t recognize words in response to that particular question. It would have to be a numeral, and besides, it’s much more convenient for us.”

            “But that’s the problem! Numerals don’t work for me anymore! Don’t you remember when I said that at first?”

            The agent responded with a kind of hum. I was so frustrated, I reached up and tore off my right ear. Then, I started laughing, confusing my interlocutor all the more, because I realized that right then I’d found a good reason to possess an alternate head. I sat there, looking at my ear in my hand, and thought I had a solution.

            “Okay,” I told him, “I’m ready to respond again.”

            “Fire away.”

            “My response is- ‘A brood of ducks’.”

            “That’s not a response.”

            “It’s the only response I can give, if you require a numeral which I’ve told you that I can’t give. First of all, I don’t give ones for customer service surveys. It’s mean, and seems to me to deny the fact that something can improve. A brood of ducks could be two. Or, as many as ten. I’d prefer it would be five…”

            “Well, I’ll just enter that you refused to take the survey and that you’re a bad person.”

            “Enter that! I don’t care!”

            “And, I need a grape soda…”

            “Have one! Enter that I’m a bad person, and enjoy your lovely grape soda!”

            “(glig-glig-glig!) I just did. Thank you for calling Largetel, and have a good day infinitum.”

            And, after the call ended, I had one. A grape soda. Obviously, I wasn’t having a good day. Tilting my head back for the fruity fizz, I felt a breeze. With the grape soda shot, my wig, which had detached during the call, slid off my head and down between my back and the sofa. I heard about rejection from long ago, when the body tried to lose the machine. That’s when I realized I was having some sort of organic reaction.

            I have a network coverage map and will head for the hills. I’ll find a wide-open spot where they can’t find me. So, I’ll never know again what Brenda Terwilliger had for breakfast. I can live with that.

            I’ll be thinking more for myself. Why were we given pseudo-virtual-omniscient brains, but not expected to use them? Hopefully, as someone picks up this bottle, with its note, I’ll be sitting in a place far away that I found once on vacation. It’s beneath a tree that talks. Believe it or not, the tree talks. (Not about anything very specific.) I’ll be sitting beneath a talking tree, far away enough not to be bothered, except, perhaps, for the occasional bird that says: “Here! You Need Some Poop!”