The Blacklist

What state and what city doesn't matter you nosy stalking fuckers, you know they're the same everywhere. I just called them. It's all automated.

To hear this menu in English press one. To hea...

One.

Please press one to file your claim. Press two if you were told to call this number to file your claim. Press three if you filed your claim and were told to call this number. Press four if you were told to call this number after you filed a late claim. Press star to repeat this menu.

Four.

Please hold for the next available representative.

A pause.

You are the one thousand four hundred and sixty second person on hold. To prevent you from waiting longer than necessary, we suggest you use our website to file your claim or try your call again later. This call will now disconnect.

A click.

I look at my cell phone, dumbfounded. The automated service hung up on me. Bastards. I hit redial. Four times. Four repeats of this bullshit. Whaddya know, five is my lucky number!

Please hold for the next available representative.

A pause.

Elevator music. A nasty polka and disco hybrid.

Minutes pass.

More minutes. Ten. Fifteen. Oh no, I've reached dolka stage, I dare not hang up now.

Your call is very important to us. To limit your time on hold, please select one of the following options. If you're unemployed because you love dealing with this automated service, press one. If you're unemployed because you're a lazy welfare recipient, press two. If you're on hold because you really have this little of a life, press three. If you're waiting to speak to a representative for the next 45 minutes, press four.

Four.

Four.

Four.

Four.

FOUR.

FOUR!

FOURFOURFOURFOUR!!!

Elevator music.

Jesus!

Minutes pass. More minutes. Ah fuck it. I’ll cut this long, boring, ridiculous story short. She answers.

This is __________(fill in any foreign sounding name here.) *Unintelligible language* How may I help you?

I tell her who I am, and what I'm calling for as I couldn't care less who she is or whatever else she said. All that matters to me at this point and every other point is what she can do for me.

She puts me on hold. Only she doesn’t. I sit here listening to her breathe. She questions me about every little detail regarding my claim, from why I’m filing so late to why I hadn’t been filing all this time. She asks me about school, telling me she’ll resend me a school form that needs to be filled out, that I already filled out. I start to get a bit agitated here. I’m pretty sure she didn’t even realize it. She puts me on non-hold hold again. Her breathing quickens. She’s either about to have an orgasm or a revelation. She speaks.

These checks will be reissued.

This is the bottom line of the story, you know. But now I’ll tell you, I’ve had to repeat everything this woman has said to me back to her to ensure I’ve gotten it correct. This is an unemployment office in the STATES. The United States, by God. Here, we speak English as a first language. I’m pretty sure English wasn’t even this woman’s second language. Or third. I haven’t even a clue what nationality she was. That’s how far from my language she spoke.

This happens all the time anymore, and I now realize why some of us have trouble finding jobs. Well, those of us that are actually looking anyway. Because they’re all taken by non-English speaking foreigners. I almost demanded she give the phone to someone who speaks English as a fourth language. They'd have to be more comprehensible.

Before you start all the snippy shit about my opinion on the lack of jobs in our country, my hatred of automated telephone services, my dislike for trying to deal with English-butchering foreigners, or the fact that I’m unemployed, save it. That’s my advice to you. Save it. I was busting my ass to support welfare recipients and the rest of the vagrants that litter our streets. Little homeless fuckers, begging for change to buy their booze, crack cocaine, and porn. Parading about our streets in their filthy, dumpster looted clothing with 'Will Work for Food' signs. I’d actually buy one of them a cheeseburger to clean my house if I knew I wouldn’t get robbed blind.

Gotta keep my porn stash safe.

But that’s another tirade, for another time.

Most Sincerely,
Lynx