Busy with her portfolio of investments, Loreen took a pencil and a legal pad and jotted down notes. Her phone, tablet, and desktop had all been charged. She just enjoyed the idea of quickly getting down on physical paper what the dividends would be.
She folded back a page and kept scribbling past the margins. Something, however, didn’t sit well with her. Her overpayment to the tax man didn’t register as a refund. Her phone in hand and ear buds in ear, she called the feds. After a bit of music, an automated voice arrived on line like a robotic specter.
“Yes, may I speak with a live agent please?”
“Our records show that this phone number is registered to Breen, Loreen. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Please put in your nine digit account .”
Undeterred, Loreen responded by putting in her code.
“Now, please put in your four digit pin.”
Loreen, still calm as an untroubled sea, proceeded to put in the combination.
“Now, please wait fifteen minutes for further instructions. What kind of music would you like to listen to while you wait? Classical, classic rock, or pop? Or just press four to select silence.
Never flustered, she pressed four. After twenty-three minutes and five seconds, Loreen kept her composure because of new technology.
“Live agent please,” with a sense of curtness and politeness enveloped in her tone, she reiterated.
“Live agent, please.”
“To get you to the best team member, please explain your issue in a few sentences.”
“Live agent, please.”
Then, the line clicked and a human voice rose up from the depths of computerized steps.
“Hi, I’m Rosalind, how may I help you, Mrs. Breen?”
“Yes, I’ve got a discrepancy with my taxes. I’m owed three hundred thousand six hundred and eight dollars and eight cents.”
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Skyler Saunders
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