Nobody Reads This Page – “Phone Assistant, Part Two”

 

c. 2024 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

3-24

 

 

Dealing with my rowdy friend Janis Mays has never been an easy task. She has the independent spirit of Calamity Jane, and the style of Ms. Joplin, the famous 60’s icon. Her mode of thinking is always somewhat impulsive. Planning ahead, or pondering possibilities, are not strategies in her personal toolkit. She gets a burr under the saddle, and springs into action. I often find myself playing the role of a mediator. I try to listen, and advise with patience. While keeping others from misunderstanding her capricious nature.

 

A recent effort to get her hooked up with a cellular device, through the mega-retailer Walmart, seemed to have gone well. I managed to set up accounts with PayPal and that vendor of goods, and then make purchases that she wanted, online. Afterward, I celebrated on my home porch with a cold brew.

 

Her treasures were supposed to arrive on a Tuesday. Both the phone itself, and a prepaid card that corresponded. With enough data and minutes for a full month of service, despite not signing a contract. I felt like a hero, though she complained a bit about having to wait a few days for the delivery. When the target date arrived, nothing showed up in the mailroom of her skilled-care facility. Yet her reaction was surprisingly chipper.

 

“Oh well, it’ll be here tomorrow! I can’t wait, Rodbert! There’s a big chicken in our activity room, and I want to take a picture before it disappears!”

 

After our brief conversation, I checked her e-mail messages as an afterthought. Then, my head drooped with a sense of defeat.

 

“Your order has been canceled due to suspicious activity that was detected by our security team. A full refund has been issued. To reorder these items, click here...”

 

My stomach had begun to hurt. I reread the statement, then double-checked her information. A look at the PayPal site confirmed that all funds transmitted had been returned. Nothing appeared to be incorrect or out of place.

 

I took a deep breath, invoked the mercy of a higher power, and sent her order again. Then, decided to make a redneck charcuterie plate, which contained sliced salami chunks, extra-sharp cheese, and crackers. While satisfying my appetite, I watched WWE wrestling on my DVR.

 

Sometime later in the evening, I had a second look at my feminine friend’s Walmart account. There was another communication about the resent order being flagged as suspect. It had again been rejected, like an NBA score blocked at the basket.

 

Janis joked during our previous interaction that she might call late in the day, something she did not usually do as a habit. So, I fortified myself with a few rounds of Miller High Life, to be prepared. Her patience never endured for long. I had become used to her rants and outbursts, over the 15 years of our personal association. Still, these episodes rattled me to the core. Thankfully, I was able to watch all of the sporting matches that remained in my virtual queue, without any interruption. She must have fallen asleep in her bed at the nursing home. My wireless link did not chirp again.

 

Overnight, I tossed and turned restlessly, while fretting about my failure. Ideas did a zig-zag dance inside of my skull. Perhaps I might attempt to make her purchase from my own pocket, and seek reimbursement later? Or brave the miles between my rural dwelling, and her new residence in the City of Ashtabula? To take her forward to the shopping depot located in that municipality? I reckoned that such a trip would be challenging, as she now needed a walker to get around, physically. My own disability would preclude giving assistance, if she fell or floundered.

 

Frustration weakened my resolve. When the sky began to awaken, on Wednesday morning, I crawled out of the sack and made coffee. The computer seemed to beckon, from my home office. It was there that I would find comfort, and a resolution.

 

After scanning the Walmart start page again, I found a link that said ‘begin chat.’ So, I clicked the mouse while preparing myself for a trip down the hi-tech rabbit hole. A bot identified as a creation of artificial intelligence responded.

 

“Hello! I am the customer assistant. Please tell me about your problem, and I will help!”

 

In the guise of my cohort from Lake Erie, I offered a brief explanation about being sidelined for health reasons, and employing the help of a friend to accomplish my shopping chore.

 

“I have been hospitalized, or at a care facility, for nearly a year. My intention was to buy a Motorola phone, and a Straight Talk card. They were to be shipped to this location.”

 

The AI helper provided a range of answers. None of them fit the issue I had encountered.

 

“If you think there has been suspicious activity on your account, change your password immediately. Check your computer for malware. Make sure that your banking details are up to date...”

 

My throat felt uncomfortably dry. Though I had just finished a mug of coffee, my taste buds yearned for a splash of golden pislner

 

“The purchase you rejected was initiated by me, I want to buy a phone and have it delivered to this nursing center. Is there someone who can help?”

 

The bot sent a disclaimer that time would be needed to process this query. Then signed off as if I had been satisfied.

 

“Thank you for contacting us! If you need further help in the future, don’t hesitate to reach out...”

 

I was afraid our connection would be severed.

 

“May I speak to a human representative, please?”

 

My request might have offended Star Trek’s stoic Commander Data. But the retail chatbot simply repeated its warning about a waiting period being necessary for processing my ask. Then, a notice that someone else had joined the conversation appeared.

 

“This is Poobah, may I help you today?”

 

I reread my previous comments from the activity log.

 

“I am in a nursing facility, and want to order a cellular device and prepaid card, to be sent here at your convenience...”

 

The new participant asked that I confirm all of the pertinent information. Including an authorization number from the original order, the name of my contrarian cohort, her e-mail account, and her billing address.

 

“I am Janis Mays, from the west side of Ashtabula, Ohio...”

 

Once I had convinced the rep that something had gone wrong with their security protocols, she declared that a member of their protection team would have to intervene. Again, I received assurances that my issue would get attention, after a pause.

 

“Please hold while I transfer you to a supervisor. You are very important to us as a customer!”

 

Another flash of text popped up in the chatlog. It indicated that a fellow named Zartan had been added to the conversation.

 

“How may I help you today, Miss Mays?”

 

I was struggling to keep typing on my keyboard, without an adult beverage at the ready. Yet forced myself to be compliant.

 

“I am in a skilled-care facility in Ashtabula, Ohio...”

 

This time, the description of my cyberspace woes cracked through the stone wall of static. There was a brief delay as all of the information I had repeated got a confirmation code. Then, apologies began to flow.

 

“I am sorry for your inconvenience in this matter. After about 30 minutes, but not more than 24 hours, please resend your order through the Walmart website. It will be executed and applied to your chosen financial institution. I thank you for your patience. Is there anything else I can do for you, today?”

 

My eyes had started to burn. But it appeared that the online ordeal was over.

 

“No, that’ll do it. I appreciate your help. Thank you...”

 

The representative did not sound too dissimilar to his AI bot. I could barely tell them apart. But now, that didn’t matter.

 

“THANK YOU FOR SHOPPING AT WALMART!”