The voice said something about a service call.
To be honest, I wasn’t fully alert when the phone rang. I had been sound asleep. Perhaps in the middle of a dream.
The voice was talking about a technician arriving between 8 and 9 a.m. She said the visit might last for an hour and a half.
“To confirm the appointment, press 1. To reschedule, press 2.”
I didn’t remember making an appointment. What was the technician planning to do?
“I’m sorry,” the voice said. “I didn’t hear your selection. To confirm your appointment, press 1. To reschedule, press 2.”
I was starting to think this whole thing was a terrible mistake. I pressed 2.
“Thank you. If you’re a residential customer, press 1. If you’re a business customer, press 2.”
How many more numbers would I have to press? Couldn’t I just talk to a human being?
“Please enter your account number, or if you don’t have it, you can just say, ‘I don’t have it.’” “I don’t have it,” I said.
“No problem,” the voice said. “Please enter the telephone number associated with this account.”
“Why do you need my phone number?” I asked the voice. “You just called it.”
I hung up and headed downstairs for coffee.
“Do you know anything about a service call?” I asked my wife. “We’re supposed to have a technician here between 8 and 9 a.m.”
“I don’t know anything about it,” she said. “Maybe they have the wrong number.”
I called back, and again I found myself talking to a machine.
“Please enter your account number,” the voice said. “If you don’t have it, you can say, ‘I don’t have it.’” “I don’t have it.”
I had returned to voicemail hell. Enter your phone number. Enter your ZIP Code.
Finally I got an actual person on the phone.
“You guys called and woke me up this morning,” I said. “The machine said I had a service appointment, but my wife and I don’t remember scheduling one. In fact, we don’t even have an account.”
He asked for my phone number, and I gave it to him.
“It does look like we have an account associated with that number,” he said. “I’ll have to transfer you to another department, where they can access that account.”
“Thanks,” I said.
Finally, I thought, we were about to get to the bottom of this mystery.
No such luck. He transferred me, and I was again confronted by a machine.
“If you’re calling about a residential account, press 1. If you’re calling about a business account, press 2.”
Things soon took a turn for the worse.
“Our office is now closed,” the voice said. “Please call back during regular business hours.”
I hung up, but before long, my phone rang again.
“Hello,” the voice said. “Your technician is on the way.”
I took another shot at reaching a live human being, and this time, I found myself connected to one.
She again asked for my phone number. I gave it to her, and she confirmed that, yes, my number was indeed associated with an active account.
“What account is that?” I asked.
She asked for the service address.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” I said. “As far as I know, I don’t have an account.”
She was apologetic but unyielding.
“If you can’t give me the address,” she said, “I can’t give you any information about the account.”
I did finally succeed in getting my phone number removed from her records, but I’ll probably never know where that technician went. Or why.
