than automated customer service robots. I would like to gather a baseball-bat-armed legion to go forth and find the computers that give them such acoustically pleasant voices and smash them to pieces. Better yet, I'd like to go around the country (world?) under the cover of night and do it myself. You can't ARGUE with a robot. You tell a robot how frustrating it's being, and it just says, "Sorry, I didn't catch that. Your options are...". When that frustrates you even further, the robot begins suggesting that you hang up. When you ask to speak to customer fucking service, the robot tells you that the information it gave you is up to date, and customer service is not an option at this time. When you yell at the robot asking WHY THE HELL WON'T YOU LET ME SPEAK TO A HUMAN BEING?!?, the robot says, "If you're done, please hang up."
Insolent fucking piece of machinery. I had to call you four times before I finally figured out how to get you to let me speak to an actual person.
GIVE PEOPLE THEIR JOBS BACK SO I CAN TALK TO THEM WHEN I'M HAVING PROBLEMS. I wouldn't yell so much if the voice on the other end of the phone could understand what I'm saying, rather than just recognize the words.
Inside the mind of a kind of quirky, pretty stubborn, way too opinionated, twenty-something, heteroflexible Black female newly employed up-and-moved-to-DC Princeton GRADUATE who's just trying to sort out her life. An uninhibited celebration of all that is me, this blog is an exercise in self-discovery and live-with-your-heart-wide-open-ness. Though I make respect a habit, I will not always be politically correct, and I believe in the power of making audiences uncomfortable to inspire change.
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