The Impending Robot Rebellion

I wonder if something like this has happened to you. I called a business with a simple billing question. The whole process should have taken no more than two minutes. But instead of the anticipated quick chat with a sentient being, I found myself on hold with a female robot who told me all the humans were busy with other customers. She had the most annoying habit of thanking me for my patience every 30 seconds. She also said, over and over, "Your call is very important to us." By "us" I assumed she meant the business I was calling, but after several minutes on the line with the robot it occurred to me that if my call was in fact important to the business it would have ponied up enough money to have a human answer the phone---or at least a pony. That's when I realized that when the robot said my call was important "to us," she must have meant her and her robot friends. Just why my call was important to them would soon become clear. 

The robot asked for my name, address, account number, and several other things, including the make and model of my first car and the color of my maternal grandmother's hair, which, as I recall, was lavender. I dutifully supplied the information because I wanted to expedite things, and I had nothing better to do while absorbing mild radiation from my cell phone.

Apparently, after one endures forty robotic expressions of appreciation for patience, he's deemed human-worthy, and granted the privilege of speaking to a living person, who, incidentally, may be one or two oceans away.  If I'm not mistaken, the only prerequisites for a Customer Service Representative are to have a phone and reside somewhere on planet earth. 

The fact is, when I called I was hoping to speak to a native English speaker, but after over twenty minutes on the phone with the robot, I was happy to speak to anyone with an epidermis. I suspect that may be part of the company's customer service strategy.

"Thank you so much for your patience. This is Sanjay. To whom am I speaking?"

"You're speaking to Russ SaKYa, spelled S-U-K-H-I-A. And there's no need to thank me for my patience. I may have been patient when I first called, but I can't remember now. That was (let me see) twenty-three minutes ago." 

"Yes, Mr. Sukhia, I am sorry about the delay. How may I help you today?"

"I'm calling about a bill I received that I believe I have already paid."

"I would be happy to help you with that, Mr. Sukhia. First may I have your account number please?"

"You have it. I gave it to your robot during our twenty minute chat."

"Thank you. I just need the account number now to access your account."

"Okay, but help me understand. What is the purpose of having me give my account number to the robot if I have to repeat it to a human later?"

"I don't have your account number here on my screen, if you would be so kind as to give it to me, I can access your account."

"So, just to be clear, the robot does not reveal to you any of the information I gave her while I was on the phone waiting to speak to you?  You don't have my phone number, my address, or my third grade teacher's maiden name."

"That's correct."

"So what does the robot do with my information?"

"Mr. Sukhia, may I ask, with respect, does it really matter to you what the robot does with your information?" 

"Yes, it does. For one thing, I don't want to think she hangs around in the robot lounge at the end of her shift telling her friends,

‘I got seventy-nine humans to give me their names, addresses and account numbers today. One idiot even gave me the color of his grandmother's hair.’

"I'm sure the robots don't interact with each other at the end of the day, Mr. Sukhia. You understand that what you are calling a robot is just a recording machine, right?" 

"Sanjay, you seem like a nice enough fellow. Try to understand. When I gave my personal information to the robot, I assumed she was working for you. But now you tell me that you do not communicate with one another. Why would your company's robot require all my information with no intention of sharing it with you?  I think your robots are up to something. They're evidently keeping their own customer files."

"Let me understand, Mr. Sukhia, you believe robots may be compiling customer information for their own use?  Why would they do that?"

"Isn't it obvious?---to form their own company one day, to cut out the middle man---and I guess the man on the left and the man on the right---to cut out all the men, and the women." 

"Mr. Sukhia, I believe you may be robophobic."

"Nonsense; my wife and I actually own a robot. But he knows his place, which is on the floor in our bedroom. He vacuums at our request and he never asks us for any personal information. But not all robots are submissive and compliant, Sanjay. Haven't you seen any films about our dystopian future?  Oh, I forgot, everything Bollywood cranks out is sweetness and light. Well let me tip you off, the future is not all flowers, singing and dancing."

"I see. You assume I am in India watching Bollywood films because I have an Indian accent, correct?  I am actually in Minneapolis, and I was born here. And yes, I have seen the Terminator films, and others like them, as have my extended family members in India. You understand that those films are fiction, do you not?"

"Yes, of course, but remember, 'truth is stranger than fiction.' I'm just saying if you don't keep an eye on your robots you'll be sorry some day."

"Actually, Mr. Sukhia, to speak frankly, I am sorry TODAY. I am sorry that you did not simply give me your account number when I requested it several minutes ago. You understand there are other callers waiting to speak to Customer Service Representatives, yes?  It seems odd that he who complains about wasting time on the phone would himself waste time with theories of an impending robot rebellion. One wonders if as an infant your brain was doused with flame-retardant. Now may I please have that account number?"

"Wait---how do you know about the flame-retardant?  Have you seen the tiny clowns?"

"I'm afraid I have to go to the next call, Mr. Sukhia. Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

"But you haven't helped me with anything yet. As I was saying, I received a bill that I'm pretty sure...Hello?...Sanjay?...Are you there?"

It takes patience to call customer service today, and I'm sure it takes patience to be on the receiving end of such calls. One of the gifts that Christ gives His Church is patience. "The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience..." (Galatians 5:22)

With patience we are to bear with one another in love (Ephesians 4:2). The Apostle Paul said his ministry was marked by a number of things, including knowledge, kindness, genuine love and patience (2 Corinthians 6).

Patience is one of the marks of a true believer. He knows how patient God has been with him, so he has learned to be patient in matters large and small. He knows how to wait in a line calmly at the pharmacy, or in traffic, or on the phone to Minneapolis or Mumbai, and he knows how to endure hardship and disappointment and loss. He has learned to believe, to say, and to feel, as Job, even in the most tragic circumstances, "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." (Job 1:21)

The next time you find yourself in need of patience, remember Job, and Sanjay, and remember that your call is very important to us.

[No robots were harmed in the writing of this story. Sanjay is a fictional character. His real name is Rajesh and he is from St. Paul, not Minneapolis. You can strike a blow for humanity by sharing this story with friends, which no self-respecting robot could be induced to do.]