Higher Perspective

Consciousness Raising

Anyways… I was trying for a bit of a higher perspective in life.

So a few months ago I decided to embrace technology and try and buy an airline ticket on line—never done that before. Millions of clicks later I failed miserably so I had to call the help desk.

“Press button one…”
“Press button two…”
“This call is being monitored in case you die of boredom.”
“Press three for the times of high tide in Buenos Aires.”
“…please stay on the line in case an operators talks to you before this incarnation is completed.”

Electronic misery goes very deep inside our soul, I’ve so discovered.

A lady from Calcutta phoned me later to say my transaction didn’t complete because my name is not Stuart, it took me ten minutes to convince her. Then she shot a cannon into my heart chakra when she asked me for the phone number on the back of the card.

It’s printed in a very small typeface like 4pt. Eek!

You’d need the effin’ Hubble Telescope to read it.

Luckily I had the number written down in my phone book so I was able to escape her killer shot.

“Transaction confirmed” and God bless the lady from Calcutta, “Mother Teresa of the help-desk.”

Lady from the Orange Help Line I crawled back into m’ basket to chew on the rubber bone my kindly aunt from near Basingstoke brought me back from Majorca four years ago.

“B’ring” “b’ring.”

Orange mobile phone systems texts me to say I’m out of credit and the card they have on file that I’ve used with them a dozen times before does not exist. Would I please call the customer’s support line.

Suddenly I’m talking to Mother Teresa from Calcutta again…she tells me its thirty degrees in Calcutta. “It’s freezing here”, I says.

“Your card doesn’t exist, Mr. Wilde”, she says in a Deepak Chopra accent.

“I’ve got the card in my hand,” I says in a Stuie Wilde accent, “so it must exist.”

She asked for the expiry date, which is 12/12, which is bloody weird as that also happens to be when the Mayans think the world will end.

So I tells the Holy Mother—the Indian lady from the customer’s
yelp-desk—I says to her “My card expires when the world ends.” She didn’t get it.

I started to cry, she asks me why I’m crying. I tells her the pain of the world gets on m’ nerves and it hurts m’ soul very deeply and this Master Card, Visa, and American Distress (don’t leave home without it) is all part of our pain.

Transaction confirmed! The phone’s working again. Phew! (sw)

{Have you noticed how technology creates extraordinary problems for us of which we are totally innocent and then it charges us an arm and a leg to fix the very problem it has created for us. There is no mercy. It seems so cruel to ordinary people pushed for time trying to make ends meet.}