I had to call a medical office today to get some information about an upcoming appointment. The person with whom I needed to speak wasn’t at her desk, so I got to chat with her voicemail. I usually prefer this scenario because I can leave a very detailed message, and then say a silent prayer (that should make the nuns happy and keep them off my case for the moment…more on nuns in a later post) that the person will call back with what I need (and feel free to just leave it on my voicemail please).
This woman was a crafty one, though, and having lulled me into lowering my defenses, used modern technology to go for the jugular (bonus points for enslaving the machines and getting them to do your dirty work). The outgoing message on her phone irked me so badly that I had to write it down in hopes that later burning the page would purge the memory of it from my already overloaded brain (was it Beavis or Butthead who taught me about the soothing, cleansing power of fire?).
That didn’t work, so now I’m going with Plan B…ranting about it in the blog and forcing the angry memories out onto the internet.
Her message ended with: “I will get back to you at my earliest convenience.”
Wait! What? You’ll get back to me at YOUR earliest convenience? Don’t I pay your office (and, yes, I am definitely the one paying because my insurance surely doesn’t pay for anything lately!) to provide a service at MY convenience?
Where does she get off leaving a message like that? Has the world become that lazy? Have people actually devolved to a point where they believe they only have to do their jobs when it’s convenient for them, rather than for the customer? How do I get a gig like that? I’d love to only tackle my seemingly endless pile of work-related problems when it fit my mood. That would be a very short, very stress-free work day.
The cynical New Yorker in me (I don’t know how he got in there, but I can’t find a priest willing to do the exorcism to get him out of there) believes this woman left that message thinking she was saying something nice, and has no clue what it actually conveys.
This Modern Philosopher isn’t quite sure. The situation requires some deep thought. Perhaps when I go to that appointment, I’ll confront the woman and ask her flat out. I probably won’t, though. Can’t let her know she’s gotten to me.
Well to be honest, it’s more like I don’t feel like dealing with her blank stare as I try to explain how her voicemail message isn’t very customer friendly.
Why do I even sweat these things? What does it matter? Do I let things get to me simply to have an excuse to burn a large stack of paper at the end of every day?
I’m sending these thoughts out into the internet now to free up some space in my brain. You know, so I can obsess about something even more ridiculous tomorrow.
Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think. At your earliest convenience, of course…