Where Are My Helpers?

 

Our personal affairs these days are still conducted on the phone, not always online. I’m a holdout. I listen to the phone ring and wait for the computer to answer. No matter what company, no real person usually answers the phone. A computer asks you for your password or your account number and gives you a list of options to push on your phone. I get so excited when an associate, affiliate or agent answers, When they say “Hello,” I always take an audible breath and say, “Oh, you’re a real person.” 

 

To entertain myself, I always ask the person I’m dealing with at some point where they are. Some tell me, some don’t. Calling in to our local newspaper to report my paper missing, I asked the person where he was. He told me he was “South of Tucson.” I’ve been somewhat south of Tucson and there’s whole nother country down there.  Another call was about a  problem on my credit card, and the agent asked me where I was after I gave him my account number. I said, “Port Byron, IL.” He said “ I can almost see you.” I asked him where he was and he told me LeClaire, Iowa, just across the Mississippi River. He also said he used to live in Joslin, IL and graduated from Riverdale High School in Port Byron in 1985. We had a good chat. He asked if there was anything else he could do for me and I told him no. “Good,” he said. “Often when I ask that question I ask them if they’d like me to come and wash their car or mow their lawn. But I can’t ask you that, because if you said yes, you’re close enough that I’d have to come do it.” He went to high school with my children.

 

Fast forward to another call. Another computer, another agent. His name was Henry. Sure. He told me he was in Central America. Spoke fluent English. Took care of the problem right away. He works for Walmart and cleared a problem with my Monday drive through order. He said if I had to call back for further help he’d give me a transaction number so they could trace what he’d done and save me time. As he gave me the letters and numbers mixed he said “D for dog, W for water, E for iguana.” I said, “What? You must spell iguana differently than anyone I know.” “Oh, no,” he said, “I meant I for Ice.” I asked him, “You did say E for iguana, didn’t you? Did I hear you right?”

 

He laughed. “Yes, I did. In Spanish it would start with an E.”

 

Fun is where you find it. Look for it. Laugh whenever you can, even with someone you’ll never talk with again.