PPIss Off!

With a metaphorical machete I hack my way through the jungle of 1’s and 3’s. The vines of poisonous ivy are cleverly disguised as a polite voice saying something like, “If you’re calling about your Super Saver ISA account: press 42 now!”

 

I chop and chop, sweating in the imaginary heat, only to find myself back where I started. I’ve pressed so many buttons that a callous is forming on my index finger, and somehow I’ve gone full circle. I swear the computer voice sounds different. It’s saying the same thing, but I can hear a smirk on those electronic lips.

 

If I could just get through to a real live person my problem could be sorted out in a minute or two. There must be someone sitting at a desk, hand resting on the receiver in anticipation of my call.

 

I’m like a Christian waiting till death in the hope that God will be on the other side. But then the Buddhists are proved right, and I end up at the beginning having to do it all over again.

 

What’s more annoying is now the computers aren’t even waiting for you to call anymore. Now they’re calling you themselves saying, “This is an important message! You might be owed money for PPI.”

 

What is PPI, anyway? I've seen the ads but I don't know.

 

Science fiction writers imagine a future war between man and machine, but it’s started already. Right now it’s a cold war. By the time it hots up we’ll be so used to ignoring them we won’t even notice they’re breaking down the door and stealing our children to use as batteries.

 

Usually it’s a woman’s voice. I’m not sure what it’s selling because I slam down the phone after the first few words. I wonder if the woman who records these messages will ever be able to use the phone again. Surely when she phones up a friend or the local Chinese take-away they hang up a second into her greeting.

 

“You’ve reached ‘The Hungry Dragon’. How can I help?”

 

“Hello. I…”

 

Slam! No chop suey for you!

 

Often it’s a man’s voice. Not a real man, because it sounds way too manly to be an actual man. He’s got one of those old American movie voices. Like a posh, British John Wayne. He always says, “This is an important message…” and I hang up.

 

He might have to tell me that ninja assassins are on their way right now.

 

He might be kindly warning me of an imminent alien mothership with its lasers aimed at my groin.

 

I’ll never know.

 

Soon the companies behind all this will realise their trick has failed. We’ve wised up to it and no one listens anymore. My advice to them is a slight change in tactics – instead of the formal greeting the computer should just have a chat, “Hey how are you? That’s great. I just wanted to tell you that Jesus saves at Santander Bank… and you should too.”

 

When the machines attack, when they bust through the roof with their metal claws and microwave eyes, we'll be lying in bed screaming, “Why?”

 

And they’ll tell us, “We warned you! We even got British John Wayne to call… but you never listened!”