Recently, I had the wonderful opportunity to experience various aspects of a certain regional bank’s customer service. The first time I called in, it was fairly straightforward. I managed to get directed to an agent without much grief. They used the happy little voice to text mumbo jumbo to navigate me to the right place. This time, nothing bad happened during that little interlude. Once I got on the phone with an agent, her line kept cutting out. I finally told her she was cutting out. After that the line went dead, so I just hung up. Joy. Maybe I should have been patient.

So, today, I called the same bank again. Actually, they had a fancy “call-back” feature that made me feel happy—at least until I was connected with an agent. I sat there waiting for someone to say “Hello may I know who I have the pleasure of speaking with today?” Finally, I said “Hello… hello… hello?” Then after another thirty seconds, the lady said “Can you hear me now?” Oh, good! Finally. I gave her my name as she wished, then I told her what business I had with This Certain Regional Bank today. As she repeated my business back to me, her line cut out. I decided to ignore it this time, and just roll with it. Anyway, this time I was successful in concluding my business with this unnamed regional bank.

These two interactions have started me to reflecting on all the little ways “automation” affects my life, and how these things just make my experience of existence on this earth just a little worse.

The first thing that comes to mind is the Automated Teller Machine. This is the first machine against which I wish to rage. It’s not that it’s so bad. It’s just not as nice as going into the bank and asking a human teller for a cash withdrawal. You can disagree with me on this. That’s okay. It’s okay to be wrong. Some ATMs are indeed better than others. They each have their own particular annoyances. Some old ones (at least touch screen ATMs) you have to navigate by what I will term “mash-and-pray” If you’ve ever used one of those old machines you will know exactly what I mean. The modern machines eat your card, and then present you with a maze of options that each take about 2 seconds. Finally, they dispense your cash, after which they vomit up your card, and then you are free to go. Pay attention some time, and you’ll notice a lingering dissatisfaction with your life after this experience. It doesn’t add anything to your life. No smile, no greeting, no human connection. Oh what joy and happiness.

Now, contrast this with getting your money from a teller. The most you do, is hand them your card, tell them, “I want $5,000 please.” And they say, “Ok, Mr. Dealer, thank you for your business, do you want that in hundreds?” And you say “Yes, ma’am” and then they give you your cash in the EXACT denomination of bills that you want. (Pro tip: you can even get two-dollar bills from a real human teller. I believe most banks keep some on hand) Depending on how well your bank knows you, the process is even easier. You can just say, “I’d like to withdraw $200” and they say “Ok, Mr. Mennonite, here’s your money” and then you walk out with two hundred in cash.

I can hear you, my incredulous readers, asking “well what about the lines.” Unfortunately, sometimes there are lines. I ask, which would you rather? Stand in line inside a bank, or be tapping in your PIN whilst a trustworthy man with a ski mask sidles up in line behind you. I’ll be inside the bank, thank you very much. If you are inside the bank, and you talk to somebody that’s in line ahead of you, they don’t automatically think you are going to mug them. If you try the same trick by the ATM, the paranoia is going to be a little higher.

Okay, so that’s the one thing that makes my life a little less happy. The other thing that really “gets my goat” is automated phone menus. Not all phone menus are created equal. One or two levels of options, at maximum please. Two to three options per menu. And let me mash the ‘0’ button to get to an operator to direct my call. Because sometimes, the menu just doesn’t have the option I want. By far the worst offender in this has got to be my most recent mortgage company. I called the number in my “Welcome” email because I had a question about what home insurance providers I could use—I’m from California, it’s a long story. I waded through their first menu, and asked to hear again. Nowhere was the option for general questions. So, I selected the option for “Mortgage Servicing.” After some more wading, and listening to all the information about my next payment that I didn’t want to hear, I finally gave up and pressed the 0. At least that worked. Ok, so apparently I had called the wrong number, so they directed me to the right one. When I was on the line with that agent, it sounded like the lag time was close to a second. So, the agent was nice, but the technology was less than ideal.

What’s the point, you might ask, in complaining about all this? There is none, because there is absolutely nothing you, or I, or the hapless customer service agents can do it. All any of us can do is impotently rage against the machine. There are a couple of options. The first is to go be Amish. The second is to move to Mount Athos and be a monk. If the machine wants us to “take a brief survey” you can be assured that it won’t be about the call quality, or about how much the machine made you angry. It will be about the customer service agent. Nowhere can I go to tell this certain regional bank that “you know what, you guys really need to up your customer service budget and get your agents a proper landline phone.”

Don’t even get me started on self-checkouts.

I am a big believer in positivity, and so far this post hasn’t had very much of that. The take-away here is that “it is not good for man to be alone.” Most of the time we hear that in marriage sermons, but it applies to more than just a spouse. The automated world removes other humans from the various aspects of our lives, thus making us “alone.” Even if you don’t like social interaction, at the end of the day the fact remains that we need other people. So, go into your bank and say “Hi” to the teller.

If you want this straight in your email you can get it here: https://open.substack.com/pub/kentfriesen/p/rage-against-the-machine