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By Tim Istock

In the beginning, there were genuine Grade A (and yes, in some cases Grade B) authentic live human beings manning the phones of public and private providers of sales and services to everyday folks like me and you. Whether you had a question about a utility bill, a barbeque grill or an airline fare to Jacksonville, you could at least count on a live person answering the phone and trying to help you, if not always successfully.

And it was good.

Then businesses cleverly added an automated rolodex feature, allowing callers to bypass the operator entirely by simply entering the extension number of the party they wanted to contact. It represented a real efficiency upgrade for both parties, unless of course you were like me and never knew the extension number of the person you wanted to talk to. But hey, in the end, you were still eventually connected to a warm body.

And it was still good.

But, alas, as time went on, simply improving work flow was not enough, and the push to trim workforces and pad the almighty bottom line soon led to the creation of the auto attendant – AKA the phone tree, phone menu, virtual assistant and chat bot – where customers are asked to manually or verbally choose from among a number of different menu options that supposedly help in narrowing down the reason for their call, if not dealing with the issue on the spot altogether, thus obviating the need to involve the personal services of an honest to goodness company representative who has better things to do than actually personally represent the company.

And it is not so good.

Now granted, if you’re calling your bank to check on their hours of operation or maybe dialing up your cellular phone carrier in order to pay a bill, you’re more than likely going to find a menu option or virtual assistant that can provide the help that you need. Cool beans.

But, if you have a problem even remotely resembling something that is out of the box and off the pre-programmed response script, your odds of getting help for your problem are about as good as driving through Clemmons and not seeing a fast food joint or oil change place.

Here’s a virtual example:

Virtual assistant – Welcome to Regressive Insurance, where 15 minutes won’t save you anything but the opportunity to squander 15 precious minutes of your life being aggravated half to death. This call may be monitored for curse words, threats and other examples of openly hostile behavior. So, what are you calling about today? Say, pay a bill, or, upgrade my homeowners coverage.

Me – My dog Lucifer just ate the neighbor’s cat and I want to know if my homeowners policy will cover the loss?

Virtual assistant – You say you lost your cat? Hmmm… Sorry, I don’t think I understand that request. Ok, let’s try again. Say, I want to upgrade my homeowners coverage, or, I want to make a payment.

Me – No no no, my dog consumed a cat that belonged to my neighbor and I want to know if my insurance will cover the damages if he decides to come after me?

Virtual Assistant – You say your neighbor’s cat has decided to come after you? Hmmm…  Sorry, I don’t think I understand that request. Ok, let’s try again. Say, make a payment, or, upgrade my homeowners insurance.

Me (screaming) – I DON’T WANT TO MAKE A PAYMENT OR UPGRADE MY COVERAGE, I WANT TO KNOW IF I’M COVERED FOR SOMETHING MY DOG MIGHT DO?

Virtual Assistant – You say you’re covered in dog doo? Hmmm . . . Sorry, that does stink but I still don’t understand your request. Ok, let’s try again. Say, make a payment, or, upgrade my coverage.

Me – I give up! I’m going to upgrade my coverage alright, to another company. And as far as making a payment goes, the only payment I’m going to make is one that will go towards having you eliminated and a live human being put in your place. DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT!

Virtual assistant – Great! So you want to upgrade your coverage and make a payment. Please type or say the last 4 digits of your social security number, your date of birth, your 47-digit policy number, the square root of fifty-seven to fourteen decimal places, and the Gettysburg Address. Then press the pound key.

Ah, so what’s a poor bloke to do? Choose from the following menu:

1. Cry
2. Cry some more
3. Invent a time machine and travel back to the days when customer service actually meant something
4. Tell companies that use virtual attendants to hit the “pound sand” key and take your business elsewhere, with the exception of the IRS, of course
5. All of the above