On Hold

I'm sitting here holding. Holding on the phone. And have been; for about an hour. Off and on.
I'm once again trying to clear up some of my late Uncle's Estate business.
Trying.
I'll probably be trying when they lay ME to rest.
Oh; wait. I'm being cremated. If I haven't burnt up from the frustration of handling all this crap.
What the hell ever happened to speaking with a human being? When did it become fashionable to be handed from 1 machine to the next? And why?
We're battling unemployment; high blood pressure and explosive acts of violence.
I'm wondering if we could decrease a bit of all 3 by actually increasing human contact once again.
Think of it. You call to get an answer to a problem; beef about a complaint; work out a solution; etc.
AND you get a person. Someone who's been trained to handle that particular situation. Even if it only means to reduce that particular bill by - say - 10 bucks. At least you feel someone listened to you and took some kind of action. Someone acknowledged the fact you live and breathe.
You know; someone actually gave a Tinker's damn.
Maybe they just sat and listened to you spout.
Sometimes that's all you want.
Sometimes that's all you need.
So we increase the employment by putting people to work handling the phones and tackling all these issues. They problem solve and listen and they contribute back to society because they have a paycheck again. Woohoo! What a concept!
Blood pressures are lowered because both people on the ends of the phone have some of their issues resolved. The callers get someone to answer the damn phones and the worker bees now have income.
Oh; and permission to hang-up on jerks.
That's gotta come into play. Have to be fair here.
Violence decreases somewhat because if you talk to someone; you don't want to break the frickin' machine in frustration. Trust me. TRUST me.
I am so so so so so sick of being on hold trying to get someone to talk to me.
And when I get them after 6 eons? It takes 3 minutes to clear things up. All that time wasted for 3-6 frickin' minutes.
But I have to have a paper trail and names and notations to make sure I cover myself AND I have to make sure I AM doing this correctly.
I answer to 8 people on this.
Plus; She-Who-Bore-Me and her Brother are being such shits about all this; I slip up and I'm doomed.
So I trip the light fantastic and tread my tight rope so very carefully.
And all in all; I hang on.
I just keep hanging on.
OnceAgain