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ReprintWhen I was a kid we had a dog named Peggy. But I’m not talking about her. I’m talking about the one in the commercials. Why does it seem like every time I call about my account, a bill or a problem, I get Peggy.
The holidays are over and soon the bills will start coming in. I have one piece of advice. Pay them. If you don’t you may end up having to talk to Peggy. You may have a problem with an electronic device you bought. If you do, you may have to talk to Peggy. Maybe your mother never received that thing you ordered for her. If that’s the case, you will probably have to talk to Peggy. If your bank account is all messed up now that the holidays are over, let’s face it, you will have to talk to Peggy. I am here to declare right now, I don’t like Peggy.
I made a call the other day and after five minutes pushing buttons, getting instructions in English, giving electronic Peggy my name rank and serial number, Social Security number, and my shoe size I finally “get” to talk to human Peggy. She then asks me for all the same information electronic Peggy asked for as well as what color underwear I’m wearing. That kind of threw me off a bit but hey, it was Peggy I was talking to.
She then says, “Tell me your problem.” First of all Peggy, it’s not my problem it’s yours. I tell her I was approved for an extension and she says, “I’ll see if I can get you approved for an extension.” “Peggy! I already have an extension!” “Do you have the paper work?” “Yes, it’s in my hand.” She then says, “What do the papers say?” “They say, I have an extension!” “Can I put you on hold for a minute or two? Thank you.” “Wait, nooooooooooo!”
After listening to seven strange sounding instrumental Beatle’s songs she comes back and tells me, “I have turned in your request for an extension.” “I already have an extension!” By now my eyes are bulging from their sockets so maybe it’s better she can’t see me. She says, let me look. I thought she already did that while she was eating up my minutes. She says, “You have an extension, your next payment is due in July. Is there anything else I can help you with?” Is she kidding? I’m already down to a minute, 38 free minutes left for the rest of the month. I don’t like you Peggy.
I don’t know where they get these “Peggy’s” from but one thing I do know is when I get off the phone my nerves are shot. I’m shaking like a leaf in a hurricane and I can’t speak. My wife walks in the room and I’m sitting in the corner just staring with my mouth open wide and drool pouring out. My wife is an intelligent woman. She knows the look. She says, “I see you’ve been talking to Peggy again.” She offers me a bottle and a binky but nothing works. The phone rings and I start shaking and crying out like Tippi Hedren in the final scene of The Birds, “No! No!”
Sometimes electronic Peggy calls me. One time she insisted her name was Joe Black. I told her I was Clint Eastwood, go ahead and make my day. I have a suggestion should you have to call a company to solve a problem. Don’t. Read the fine print because I’m sure all your answers are all in there, but that’s another story. Either that or go to the company. I would drive hundred miles just so I didn’t have to talk to Peggy.
One more thing, the next time I answer my phone and electronic Peggy says, “Please hold for an important phone call.” I have one answer for that…click.
