A Brood Of Ducks (1)
By Lou Blodgett
- 360 reads
I put this hard-copy rant in a glass retro grape soda bottle. From, like, back before the time when you could just say ‘Grape Soda’ and open your mouth to the sky like a baby bird. I hope it doesn’t break and cut anyone’s foot. If that person has actual, true fleshy feet, and is actually walking. I will place this rant-in-a-bottle in the Considerable River, even though it’s a wash in places this time of year. The fact that the bottle is made out of glass is a plus, though, I think. Some collector might pick it up. If it were a plastic bottle, I don’t think anyone would notice it, what with all the other plastic.
To type up this rant, I needed what is called a ‘pen’. I found a one in the drawer of an old desk, it had “Call Bosco LeFevre for all your insurance needs” printed on it. I don’t know what all that means, but I know that the pen doesn’t have predictive text. Which may be a good thing. I played with old machines with predictive text back when I was a kid, and one changed ‘a liter of strawberries’ to ‘a fucking Corvette’. (Playing with those old devices was instructional in so many ways.) I talked to the pen, then shouted, but it took hand movement and application to the page on my part to get it to work. Good news, though, It Works! I just looked at a word in my system, then stopped the regular communication process at that point. I’m putting a kind of fire-wall between those various thought-actions, (thoughts have such power) and simply transferring the letters down onto the paper. The paper I’m using was from an address book that I found in the same desk. I tore out the section for ‘notes’. I don’t understand why people would put notes in the back of an address book. Heck, I barely understand hard-copy address books. Either way, now I’m ranting, and not on the subject at hand. “But, why don’t you use instant correspondence to issue your complaint?” the kids might ask. I’m avoiding instant correspondence because I am afraid, especially after my last experience with customer service.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind having the new model of pseudo-virtual-omniscient network brain. Knowing everything pseudo-virtually is fun and addictive! Sending my lovely doggerel up into the clouds makes me feel good about myself first thing in the morning. Knowing just how big the latest Venusian volcano went ‘ka-plooie’ gratifies my curiosity somehow. And I really appreciate the ‘You Need To Know What Alpha-Actor Brenda Terwilliger Had For Breakfast Today!’ feature. (Yogurt with strawberries, usually.) Features don’t bother me much. But, I’ve been frustrated more and more by ones that pop up, like ‘You need a grape soda!’ ‘You need a beer! Any time’s a time for beer!’ or ‘You need to be blue today!’ (Actually, no one I know likes that feature.) Then there’s the features that introduce themselves into your life on a high, personal level.
“The fuzzy-drone wants you to accept the delivery of a pineapple smoothie! Lookit! It’s getting luke-warm, and he’s crying. You’re low on manganese, and a traitor to your demographic!”
I simply say ‘no thanks’, and opt out of getting nickled and dimed to death. I’m sure things were easier in the olden days, when they had those laughable ‘Smart Phones’. In their hands.
And, now I have a big problem with the Communication Center. That is the main motive for my screed-in-a-bottle. I first noticed this particular problem on the afternoon of May the ninth. The hiccups I had in the morning after I downed an inadvisably large portion of Captain Crunch may have been a factor. It was a small problem that led to much bigger ones. The problem is this: Any time I think of a numeral, it doesn’t register visually in my system. If the number’s represented with a word, it’s fine, but with some tasks only the numeral will do. I guess I can try to stick to words, but who knows when I’ll need a numeral? I don’t know if a numeral number from me would register as such in any system. I still don’t know, even after I called customer service this morning. I only wound up more confused. I realize that they’re just doing their job, but I found it exasperating.
This problem I have is all wrapped up in our particular communication format. Communication is conducted through multiple bands, with some more or less regarded, and it all can be conducted without a sound. In the old sci-fi horror films, sometimes fleshy people would declare- “The aliens must be talking to each other somehow!” We think those scenes are a stitch now-a-days.
I contacted customer service, and an actual someone said: “Thank you for calling Largetel, and we hope you’re having a nice day. We hope the rest of your day is nice, and all others in the future, to eternity. We strongly recommend the total-body reboot.”
I usually have all my ‘ducks in a row’ before I conduct business, and I no longer had the hiccups. But I was not ready to hear that statement. I disregarded the recommendation and told the agent my problem, asking if something simply needed to be self-reset. The agent hemmed and hawed, then asked,
“We’ll at least need to run a diagnostic. Do you have an alternate head where we can contact you while your current head is down?”
“Why do I need an alternate head? I’ve never heard of alternate heads.”
“They’re actually quite handy,” the agent said. “All you need to do is unscrew the head you’re wearing…”
“No way!” I told him. “That only happened to me once by accident, and I don’t want it to happen again. You mean to tell me that that’s the only way to diagnose the problem?” I was fidgeting as I spoke, object-adapting with my thumb and forefinger. My thumbnail came clean off and sailed over the arm of the sofa, as the agent told me,
“No, there’s no guarantee itt’l help to diagnose your problem. Like I said, you should really go with the total-body reboot.”
Well, this went into the spiritual realm. Way past any conversation I’d had with customer service. I told the agent that I believed that the soul is snuffed out or goes somewhere else with the total-body reboot. That I didn’t want a total-body reboot, and that, frankly, I was shocked that they would suggest it so early in the call.
Funny thing about toes. They’re screwed-on, too. One of mine had now come off and was rattling around in my shoe.
“I have total-body reboots on a regular basis,” the agent told me. “They clear the system. You can pick things up pretty quickly after it. Your learning. Your job. And, I can say with confidence that coming out of it you would still retain simple arithmetic and could control your bladder. Of course, even that’s not guaranteed.”
“Yes!” I said, too loud. “Totally!”
“I’ve had forty seven total reboots, in fact.”
I held my tongue for a second. Figuratively, or else it might have came off in my hand.
“My friend Fred had one,” I offered, ‘and he was never the same. He wasn’t Fred anymore, that’s for sure. This new guy chuckles and says: ‘Remember that time you got cornered in that pasture by a goat….’ and I don’t! I’ve never seen a goat in person! And he doesn’t answer to Fred anymore. It’s ‘Ignatius’.” With the total-body reboot, there would just be another cyborg with my name.”
The agent’s tone went flat and non-judgemental judgemental as he read a rebuttal verbatim.
“Well, we at Largetel aren’t here to challenge faith. Whether you feel you have an immortal soul or not, we would treat you the same. We are all the same.”
Hearing that, my blood pressure caused one of my eyes to pop out of the one head I own, and shoot across the room. It was quite a sight, but I wouldn’t recommend that you do it intentionally. Landed in the fishbowl.
“Listen,” I told the agent, “I’m so happy for you that you shouldered Modestel aside and gained your complete monopoly. Of course, there are still coverage issues, still those who aren’t connected to the ‘Grand Network’, but I figure that’s your problem. In fact, the way this call’s going, I’m kinda glad that you can’t find those people.”
“Suit yourself,” the agent said. “Without the diagnostic, I can’t see any other way to solve your problem. Thank you for calling Largetel, and would you like to take the time to share your customer service experience through our survey?”
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Great read - thank you Lou,
Great read - thank you Lou, and congratulations on the golden cherries!
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