This Call May Be Recorded for Quality Assurance
"Hello. Thank you for calling the Mail Order Pharmacy.
Someone will be with you shortly, if you wait patiently.
If you want someone who speaks Spanish, please press two.
Or stay on the line, if an English operator will do."
I miss the days when a real person answered the phone.
Now it's always a machine... I feel so alone.
I just want to refill my prescription. It's NOT complicated.
My blood pressure is high. I must be medicated.
"First we need the numbers for your ten-digit member ID."
I scramble to find the numbers then say slowly "5..5..2..3..."
"I'm sorry I didn't get that," the machine interrupts me.
"Please try again. Speak slowly and clearly."
I try again. Saying the numbers, getting it right.
"Thank you," the machine answers--oh so polite.
"Now I need your birthday. Month first, then date, then year."
The machine goes on and on with more questions and options for me to hear.
I go through the motions, respond to each cue.
I'm losing my patience, but what else can I do?
Address, phone number, doctor's name; I provide them all.
All I want to do is finish, so I can end this call.
Suddenly the machine hangs up without saying goodbye.
"NO WAIT! We're not done!" I sputter and mutter, swear and sigh.
Resigned to my fate, I dial again...trying not to cry.
I know ONE reason why my blood pressure's so high!
I will hate making calls to customer service until the day I die!
