The Seven Stages of Lo-Fi Hold Music
Would silence be better? Who can say for sure?
A couple of years ago, I spent one hour and thirty-two minutes on hold with the Social Security office. I went a little insane. The other day, I spent a mere forty-five minutes on hold, but that seemed like a good enough reason to bring back the seven stages of lo-fi hold music.
STAGE ONE: ANNOYANCE
Catherine warned me that the hold time would be brutal, but I couldn’t help the annoyance that built after the first thirty minutes or so. I found myself doing that sigh that accomplishes nothing other than making your irritation known to the world. Even that failed to bring relief, due to my being the only person at home when I made this call. With my phone on speaker, I perused my two-hundred-and-something emails while the shit-quality piano plinked away in the background.
STAGE TWO: DANCING BLISS
At one point, I moved to the kitchen to wash some dishes. The hot water combined with the tinny piano lulled me into a sort of fugue state. With the dishes done, I floated around the kitchen to the aimless tune repeating and repeating and repeating. My interpretive dance was interrupted by the song's end and a pause longer than the others. I held my breath, hoping that a human voice would be the next thing I heard. Instead, all I got was a robot man saying, “We regret that you have waited so long. We are doing our best to answer your call.”
The robot man said a few more things about how busy the Social Security office is and how long wait times are standard. I tuned the rest out, waiting for the stupid piano to come back. The song returned, and I resumed my dance, albeit with less gusto than before.
STAGE THREE: NEED TO PEE
After an hour, I realized I needed to pee. This left me with a choice: I could go while on hold and risk someone answering me mid-stream, or I could hold it for an undetermined and unknowable length of time. I chose to wait. In the meantime, the regretful robot man was back, only he was less apologetic this time.
“Thank you for holding. We appreciate your patience and will assist you as soon as we possibly can.”
As if I had a choice.
STAGE FOUR: FURY
I knew this wait would be lengthy, but I couldn’t keep the fury at bay just as I couldn’t stop the annoyance earlier. I huffed and muttered under my breath while the incessant piano droned on. I paced my living room just for something to do. The robot man returned, but this time, he couldn’t even be bothered with his earlier platitudes.
“Thank you for holding. Someone will assist you shortly.”
Shut up, robot man. Just give me the damn elevator music.
STAGE FIVE: CATATONIA
The anger left me fairly quickly, and I dropped onto the couch. A few minutes passed before I noticed I was staring blankly into space. I was also humming along to the now-familiar song. I’d spent the last hour and twenty minutes listening to that song over and over and over again. I hoped each time it ended would be the last, but it always started anew.
STAGE SIX: WATCHING NETFLIX WHILE THE HOLD MUSIC PLAYS SOFTLY IN THE BACKGROUND
I couldn’t take it any longer. I couldn’t keep listening to that cheerful piano or that infuriating robot man. I turned the speakerphone volume down and put on a Netflix show. I don’t remember which show it was, but anything was better than staring at my brain while my eyes rolled back in my head.
STAGE SEVEN: SWEET RELIEF
I only spent twelve minutes navigating the Netflix/hold music balancing act before someone finally answered the phone. It was like an actual piano had been lifted off my chest. If that feeling were a movie scene, it’d be the one where the main character runs out into the rain and feels true freedom for the first time.
The man on the other end of the line asked for my information. I gave it to him and answered a few security questions before I told him I was looking for my date last insured.
“Ah, man,” he said. “My computer hasn’t been giving me that information today. I can give you the number of your local office, though. They should be able to get that info for you.”
I wrote down the number and began again.
WEEKEND POTPOURRI:
Currently on repeat:
ACROSTIC POEM ABOUT BEING ON HOLD WITH CUSTOMER SERVICE
By Jeremy Woodcock
Just wondering if you could pick up the U S T Phone because I have been listening to C Kenny G for U P A L R Eleven hours now A D Y
