![]() | ![]() The Kindolypse
I hate calling the helpline.
It's always somebody who knows less about the problem than I do, but doesn't understand that, who is following a script that they cannot deviate from, even if they wanted to either because they don't have any knowledge or because the boss is listening and they'll get fired if they actually help me.
Good grief! Why don't I tell you what I really think?
Okay, I know they're doing the best they can on the other end. I'm usually already angry when I call because their stupid web site, or product manual, or something, doesn't have the answer. I'm in no mood to be nice when I call.
They get to deal with me and people like me all day long. Not a job I aspire to.
So I try to be nice to them, even when I'm angry. I tell them I know it's not their fault, and if they can help it would be appreciated. I ask them to tell the powers that be about my complaints if they can. Life goes on. I'm usually still angry when I hang up, but at least I haven't made the situation worse.
I hate phone calls anyway. Once, when business was slow, my boss asked me to make cold calls. I couldn't, I had to walk around the house twice (I was working from home) and take deep breaths before I could dial a number. Once I'm on the call, I'm pretty much okay, at least until it is time to say goodby, and then, it turns out, I don't know how.
But my last two phone calls have restored my faith in humanity, or maybe just help lines.
The call that prompted this essay was this morning and it was to the city help line. I was calling because I was having trouble setting up automatic payments on the city web site.
I don't know what got into me, because I picked up the phone and dialed without thinking. And when somebody answered -- Veronica was her name, thank you Veronica -- she (1) listened to me describe the problem, (2) knew what I was talking about and why their web site was being difficult, and (3) helped me work out a solution. I do mean helped me, I proposed an alternative to one of the steps, and she went with it.
That wasn't the only call, either. A few days before, a British Airways representative -- I'm naming these entities, because they deserve to be complimented -- helped me with making sure that my name on my ticket was correct. Turned out their web site had done weird things with my middle name, but their records and the ticket were correct.
These days we're all worrying, or at least I am, about the apacolypse. But it just might be possible that we're worrying about the wrong thing. There's no good antonym (windfall, manna and godsend are listed by Merriam-Webster), so we'll just have to coin one. How about the kindolypse, where people are kind to each other, just because.
9 May 2024
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