I am currently live chatting with a customer service rep. This isn't exactly hell on earth, but goddamit, it's pretty close. According to the timer, I have now been waiting for 13.08 minutes. that's like an eternity, especially when you drank a bunch of tea and now your bladder wants to explode and your brain is doing it damndest to keep everything under control, but it's a losing battle.
Huzzah! Someone names Martin is now chatting with me. It takes Martin another 2.48 minutes to actually type something. My dogs can type faster than this. I'm assuming.
Martin: How are you today, Rhana?
Really? That's what took you almost three minutes to type? What are you doing on your end? Images of someone on a computer in their house, drinking margaritas and ironing while live chatting assault my brain.
Me: I am fine, Martin. How are you?
I figure I should hide all traces of assholeness and be really nice to this person because they have the ability to make or break my day.
1.18 minutes later. . .
Martin: How can I help you today?
I wonder if he just burned his finger on the iron while trying to kill the last of his margarita.
I'm tempted to ask if he can come over and help me clean my car. Instead. . .
Me: Well, this is the third time I've had to type this, but I need to return something.
Martin: I apologize for the inconvenience. Now what do you need help with?
Gawd. I want to bang the keyboard against my head until I forget this experience, but I'm a wimp so I resort to glaring and swearing at the computer screen.
Martin and I go back and forth for another few minutes and in the end, I still have no idea what the point of this live chat is for except to make me more irritated and rue the day technology came into my life.
Martin: Why don't you call us and we can help you over the phone.
Like fuck you can. I get on the phone and call for pizza instead because that usually solves a lot of my problems.