Sunday February 3, 2013
Not Wanted on the Voyage
It’s been 18 minutes and 34 seconds. And counting. And wasting. 19 minutes that I’ve been on hold. Do people even wait this long anymore? The terrible music is on loop, it’s blurry, and for the love of god, it’s starting to grow on me. I don’t feel like dancing yet, but for crying out loud, I think I’ve gone crazy cause I’m not too far off. Every time it stops, I think a real human being is going to join me on the phone and engage in this problem that I’ve been so desperately trying to resolve. I’ve been patient, oh have I. I put it on speaker phone. Best damn idea I’ve ever had. Hands free. Still able to peruse the interweb, which, I’ll have you know, is exciting when there’s the thrill of someone interrupting. Not like that. Just retail stores online, that’s all I’m saying. Wouldn’t mind checking out Macy’s. Wouldn’t mind telling my brother to let me spend some of his cash points on a new scarf or something. I even managed to do a load of laundry. Now that’s commitment! I wonder if people are just hanging out across the telephone wires with their co-workers, just sort of keeping me on the line cause they know I’ll wait. Hell, I haven’t hung up yet. I get worried that they’re over there playing Strip Poker or Gin Rummy or, you know, I think about Twister! Are they all twisted up, half naked and tangled, smoking cigars and just having the times of their lives while I sit here surfing online trying to keep myself from dancing to this horrible music? I suppose I could get the pasta water boiling. Emmet said he’d be home soon, but I bet not before I die of boredom.