I am old-school. When I want to pay a bill, need roadside assistance, or confirm something, I want to talk with a person, not a virtual assistant. And, I don’t want to have to press a lot of keys to reach a real human being — or wonder if I really reached anybody when I’m done with the transaction.

Even going to get blood drawn recently required a screen sign-in and a sitdown without a need to speak with anyone. I am pretty sure that somewhere someone is working on a virtual phlebotomist so you would just go in and shove your arm in something and voilà! Done.

So, after several attempts over two days, both on the phone and on my computer, to fix a mistake on my Verizon bill, I was ready to just accept that I would always be paying for my daughter’s phone.

Sign in. Forgot password? We’ll text you a code, a link, or post your four-digit code. Wait, I got a six-digit code. And I didn’t put it in in time before it expired. And every answer I put in when the website asked me a question brought up a totally unacceptable response.

No, I don’t want to sign up for autopay. No, I don’t want to go paperless (actually I thought I went paperless years ago). No, I don’t want to add a line.

In fact, I subtracted a line. In person, at Verizon in Newark, with my daughter present. But that somehow did not translate when billing time came around and, of course, I was still being charged for her service.

Finally, after I can’t recall how many tries, I got a person (not in person, but online, in a chat) who was not only able to help me, but did so in about five minutes and was really nice about it.

I was incredulous. Why didn’t it start out like that?

A few weeks ago, after my husband decided to drive a car with a bad starter to work, we had a similar experience with AAA. A phone call brought us not to a person, but to a website on the phone, where we had to answer a series of questions. They would send someone, but it was to jump the battery.

Did we answer the questions wrong? We didn’t need a jump; we needed a tow.

Luckily, we knew the shop that was responding and were able to call them directly. Then, we called AAA back and actually got a person, who advised us the next time not to respond by making any online choices, that we eventually would get an actual person who would be wondering why we weren’t making online choices.

Hmm ... just what I would expect while I am dealing with a roadside emergency.

Is this an economic thing, or a convenience thing, for people not to have to speak to each other? It reminds me of when I was teaching a journalism class at Wells College many years ago, and the girls asked me if they had to talk to someone, either in person or on the phone, to write a story. Could they just do research?

This was also the days before email was extensive; maybe that’s where this all started. We figured out ways to communicate without real contact.

And, maybe that only works if you’re under 50. If you’re over 60, like us, not so much.

Louise Hoffman Broach is the Sunday editor and a reporter at the Times. Contact her at lbroach@fltimes.com or 315-789-3333, ext. 253.

QOSHE - SIMPLE STUFF: Hello? Are you actually a person? - Louise Hoffman Broach Lbroach
menu_open
Columnists Actual . Favourites . Archive
We use cookies to provide some features and experiences in QOSHE

More information  .  Close
Aa Aa Aa
- A +

SIMPLE STUFF: Hello? Are you actually a person?

31 1
27.02.2024

I am old-school. When I want to pay a bill, need roadside assistance, or confirm something, I want to talk with a person, not a virtual assistant. And, I don’t want to have to press a lot of keys to reach a real human being — or wonder if I really reached anybody when I’m done with the transaction.

Even going to get blood drawn recently required a screen sign-in and a sitdown without a need to speak with anyone. I am pretty sure that somewhere someone is working on a virtual phlebotomist so you would just go in and shove your arm in something and voilà! Done.

So, after several attempts over two days, both on the phone and on my computer, to fix a mistake on my Verizon bill, I was ready to just accept that I would always be paying for my daughter’s phone.

Sign in. Forgot........

© Finger Lakes Times


Get it on Google Play