Please Hold me Down While I Torture You

I learned today that it would be more work to fire me than it is to keep me here, eating bonbons, being a smartass and speaking deplorable French.
So walk with me a while as I sit on hold, in the magic land of Two Songs Played Over and Over again Possibly for as Long As One Hour.

I’ve been put on hold a number of times in my long, lustry life. On hold, I have heard muzak Beatles, really loud classical music, constant ads for the company I’m calling, news radio, and once, a really eerie silence with the faint echo of the receptionist trying to figure out how to use the phone. I’ve been that receptionist, so I didn’t mind.

But this particular company appears to actually hate itself so much that it is trying to passive-aggressively enable me (or anyone else who might be unfortunate enough to call) to go blindly to WalMart, buy and license a powerful rifle – that I would then have to learn how to shoot but it would be worth it – and take it on a quirky little road trip in a stolen SUV straight to their head office. There I would stand in their bland courtyard and scream every obscenity that came to mind and then I would find the person in charge of the hold music (and the person responsible for the severe understaffedness that results in me having to listen to said hold music for as long as I can stand it until I have to give up and do something else for a while) and I would shove the rifle up his or her nose and then tickle him or her to death because I’m not really a violent person but I think the torture I currently feel is similar to being tickled for 20 minutes straight.

Minute 17. Have now heard Hold Song A. 7 times. Have heard Hold Song B. 4 times. Have heard man who apologizes for the wait in English with a French accent 8 times.

Wonder: if I had chosen the French option 17 minutes ago, would I hear this message in French with an English accent? Would I recognize an English accent? Suddenly wonder if the French option has different music and this is all an elaborate joke on Anglos! Almost hang up but remember that I will not be able to communicate to my desired level of efficacy if I am speaking French. Even though I think I am quite good at French.

Sigh.

Drink more water.

Sigh.

Write verses 7 and 8 for Hold Song A. Adjust chorus.

You see, Hold Song A is a wistful tune of 2 minutes in length. It begins with a hopeful set of keyboard chords and then goes right into a steady saxophone with a little fake jazz guitar keyboard in the background. It’s impossible to describe in writing but I could sing it for you. Would you like me to sing it for you? Verses 1 – 7 are pretty tight but 8 needs work.

It’s like David Foster is trapped in my head and I can’t…shake…him….out.

Co-worker asks why I am shaking like an epileptic on a cocaine binge.

Hold Song B. is a little dose of ragtime to offset all that fucking saxophone.

Hold Song A.

Hold Song B.

Hold Song A.

At the 20 minute mark, I prepare to hang up because 20 is my limit. And then: She Answers!
We speak.
She says “Bear with me a moment,” and I cringe.

Hold Song B.

Hold Song A.

Hold Song A.

Hold Song B.

And now I can’t hang up because we’ve spoken. That’s how they get you, right there. That’s how they get you.