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Crossed

I like to think of myself as a very skilled multitasker. I can balance any number of projects at once, doing any number of different things.

Apparently, I am not so hot at talking and typing at the same time.

See. I was just chatting online with this one, at the same time that I was trying to negotiate one of those fucking dreadful voice-activated robotic receptionists over at the bill payment center at Cingular. In my IM window, I was discussing things like my wheat-free vegan cookie that was disappointingly good, and the fact that the maintenance guy drilling holes in something down the hall made me feel like I was in a dentist's office. On the phone, I was discussing things like "Pay my bill. No. Bill. Pay my bill. Yes. Now. (sigh) PAY MY BILL NOW. Yes."

All was fine until my IM-partner asked if I had, as a means of coping with the drilling noises, "tried plugging your ears and shouting LA LA LA LA LA?" I typed back, "Not yet. I'm close." At the same time, Roboceptionist over there asked me for my five-digit billing zip code, to which I replied, rather loudly to be sure she understood each and every digit, "I'M CLOSE."

Cell phone: $100. March cell phone bill: $80. Instant messenger program: free download. Suddenly feeling like you are having loud, public phone sex with the Roboceptionist: priceless.

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This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on March 17, 2005 1:22 PM.

The previous post in this blog was ROCK.

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