[a warbly Jay-Z feat. Alicia Keys] "New York Concrete jungle where dreams are made of, There's nothing you can’t do, Now you're in New York These streets will make you feel brand new, the lights will inspire you, Let's hear it for New York, New York, New York I made you hot n----"
[fractal moment of cassette-tape-hiss inspired silence]
Hello.
You've reached the automated voice message system of:
[inexplicable crackly sound] "Hey-uh, hi, this is, uh, Jon Doe's cell phone, if you'd just leave me a message with your name and number and time you called and stuff I'd really appreciate it, and I'll call you back just as soon as I can" [another inexplicable crackly sound]
is not available. At the tone, please leave a message at the tone.
Press pound when the message is complete.
Or, press 1 for more optionsTo leave a call back number, please press 5.
[another excruciating fractal moment of silence]
*beep*
Dear voice-mail script writers:
God knows how you made it this far with such a tortuously long script.
One that is somehow less efficient and more irritating than the old land-line answering machines.
One that stubbornly forswears the instantaneous convenience of all contemporary electronics.
One that preserves all the tediousness and none of the grace of courtly formalities.
One that never fails to tease the caller into thinking they can finally leave their message, only to yank the rug out from under them once more and barrage them with another banal list of options that no one in the history of America has either needed or wanted.
Seriously, why the hell would I want to leave a call back number? And why tack that option to the end of an already poorly-paced computer recording, without a beat pause, like a neurotic mother yelling at her kids running to the bus not to forget the ugly sweaters Aunt Martha sewed for them? It's thrown in like a super-important afterthought you totally forgot while stoned, and you guys wrote the frickin' thing!
It makes it sound like you're interrupting me. Seriously, it's like I'm at a party, trying to talk to my friend--and not even for long, I just need a to moment remind her about lunch tomorrow--and you're standing there, interrupting me. I just need to say, "Hey, Amanda, how's Himalaya Cafe sound tomorrow? Call me back," so that I can get back to my homework, and you're standing there, blocking my path, cutting me off, telling me about all the neat-o options on the voice-mail that can totally help you out and you're there if I need any help and do you need any help? cause I can totally help out--
You sound like a desperate date. If you were a real person I'd punch you in the face. But you're not, which only adds to my frustration. It's like you're trying to ensure that I'll be irritated by the time I call my friend, perhaps in hopes of ruining our relationship so that you can corner me alone again with your inane comments and keep me from enjoying the party. Again, the behavior of a desperate date.
Are you desperate, voice-mail script writers? Is this computerized female voice the closest you've ever been to a women? Is your poor sense of social skills and conversational timing the source of your inability to properly pace--quickly, efficiently, and kindly--a simple voice-mail script?
Perhaps you deserve your my pity, not my scorn. Perhaps your tedious scripts is how you vent your impotent rage against all the women and MFA programs that rejected you (but given how badly you botched the cell-phone script, I can only imagine how slow, boring and incompetent your writing samples were).
Maybe I'm too harsh, and voice-mail scripts are merely a failure of the free market; maybe there isn't enough competition between script writers to favor the more customer-friendly messages while weeding out the clearly inferior ones.
Maybe, more insidiously, you get to charge customers more if the voice-mail script causes the message to inadvertently cross over into the second minute, and hey, all those extra minutes of charged time add up! I hope you bought a nice hooker with those extra minute charges, she at least will talk to you, even if it is only to warn you that her pimp-daddy will mess you up if you don't pay.
In conclusion, my cell-phone script writers, if you could kindly--
*beep*
Message full. To leave a call back number, please press--
*click*
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