This morning I yelled at a computer...
Actually, SCREAMED(!) would be more like it...
And I learned something new. Apparently, my insurance company’s computer-aided answering device has been programmed to detect intense, rage-like anger.
Ha ha.
The story goes something like this.
We pay hundreds of dollars every-single-freaking-paycheck into an insurance plan. For our respectable purchase of their services, they cover a fraction of our medical expenses. For instance, we have an exorbitant $1,000 out of pocket co-pay for diagnostic testing, after which, they will cover 40% of the expense... as long as it is an "in-network" provider.
Crazy, yeah?
Another totally ridiculous rule our insurance carrier has is that, at the first of EVERY single year, we have to call them, or send in some other form of confirmation, stating that we aren't covered by any other additional insurance.
If we fail to do this in a timely manner (as in, say - January 2nd), then they promptly reject any and all claims made to them. In short, they try to make it as difficult as possible to use the "product" that we've just purchased.
My husband has made 3 attempts since the first of the year to send them the electronic verification for which they’ve asked, but this year they've taken their obnoxiousness to an all new level by not acknowledging his emails.
Just to top off their atrociously awful service, instead of sending medical ID cards for each person in the family, they sent only 1(one) card for the entire family… which my husband promptly put into his pocket.
Wow. In any other industry, those sorts of practices combined would put the business under. However, in the insurance trade, they seem to feel it their right and responsibility to make it as difficult as possible for the common guy to reclaim even 1/20th of the product for which they have paid.
After receiving yet another unpaid billing notice, I got on the phone this morning and called the insurance so that I could work the problem out, civilly, with a real, live person.
Ring, ring, ring:
"Hello, you have reached blah, blah, blah..." the computerized voice tells me. "Please enter your identification number."
Unfortunately, I don't have the ID number, because they only sent out 1(one) card and it happens to be in my husband's wallet, in his pocket... out of state, in California. So, I tell the computer:
"Operator".
This magical word is a cue to the computer that I need something other than what a computer can provide. It is supposed to patch me through to a real person.
Unfortunately, the computer wanted more information first.
"I understand that you want to speak to an assistant. Please state your identification number."
Sheesh, like I said, I don't have that information so, once again, I say:
"Operator".
The computer responds in kind:
"I understand that you want to speak to an assistant. Please state your identification number."
I figure the third time is a charm. Surely, it will realize that by three times, I need the help of a human, so once again I say those magic words:
"Operator".
"I understand that you want to speak to an assistant. Please state your identification number."
I’m starting to get mildly irritated.
"I don't have my number," I say. "Let me talk to an operator."
Apparently, the computer recognized the slightly elevated stress levels in my voice. It changed its voice recorded message ever so slightly.
"I understand that you want to speak to an assistant. Please state your identification number, so I can forward it to an assistant."
By this point, I'd had enough. I wasn’t really angry, but I was irritated enough to want to hang up. Figuring I’d get one up on the computer(and also figuring I couldn't hurt the feelings of a mere machine), I gathered all of the power in me, drew a breath, and SCREAMED into the phone, as LOUD as I could possibly manage:
"O P E R A T O R ! ! ! ! ! ! !"
It was loud enough that Kamaron - who was in the shower... upstairs...- turned off the water and asked if I was okay! The computer instantly, and humbly I might add, replied:
"May I transfer you to an assistant."
Amused by a different response, I maniacally screamed back:
"Y E E E E E E S S S S S S S !!!!!"
Apparently, it is also programed to identify Rage. I must take note of this for the future…
Almost immediately, I got an operator, who said:
“Don't get upset with me.”
Apparently, it also transfers voice recordings.
Ha ha ha!
Duly noted.
