Monday's Mischief

I navigate my way through the prompts at the appliance repair center – all sixteen of them – and am finally connected with a young woman who offers to help me but only after I answer all sixteen questions all over again.  I sigh and try not to feel irritated at the added bonus of a clear language barrier, her incredible slowness, and the general sense that I’ve interrupted her morning coffee break.

We eventually reach a point where she asks me what she can do for me and I tell her I want to make an appointment for service on a washing machine.

Is it broken?  she asks.

I hesitate for only a second.

No, I tell her, I’m lonely and looking for some company.

This generates several seconds of dead air but she’s a trooper and she regroups.

What’s wrong with it? she wants to know.

I consider telling her that if I knew that I’d likely be a repairman and could fix it myself but that seems unfairly rude.

I consider telling her I was hoping for a service call so that I could find out and have it repaired but that seems a tad testy.

I settle for telling her that I can see the image of Jesus in the army of little green men that have taken over its insides.

More dead air.

Suspecting that she’s considering hanging up on me, I take pity on her and tell her I don’t know what’s wrong with it, only that it isn’t working, and I need a service call.

It’s Monday and she can have someone there on Wednesday if that will do.

I tell her that will do nicely and hang up before I’m tempted to say something I’ll regret.