The next time you hear someone complain about elevator music while on hold, consider the alternative.
No music. No sound. Crickets.
It's weirder than bad music.
At least with music you anticipate there's still life on Earth. You know someone is looking for an answer and there's an attempt to keep you entertained. Stuff is happening. People are breathing. There's movement. The company is in business.
When calling the recommended sports doctor to schedule an appointment to assess my broken toe, I was put on hold.
I thought the receptionist hung up. I wasn't sure they were aware I was on the line.
Did they all go out to lunch? Did they lose power? Are there mice chewing through the phone lines? Is this really a call center in Baghdad?
Without hold music, it's like being in a cave. It's eerie quiet.
The next time you are subjected to bad music while you're on hold, consider the alternative.
We gathered in front of the Lake Katrine Market, 5-year-olds huddled together long before the days of buses stopping in front of every house.
Clayton Van Kleeck, Sue Brink and me. There were other kids from the Goldstein's apartments, but we didn't really hang out with them.
Bus number 44 would arrive each day like clockwork, taking us along Neighborhood Road to Lake Katrine School. We'd pull into the parking lot in front of the long, flat building, filing off the bus and in through the front doors.
The two kindergarten teachers — Mrs. Brophy and Miss Matthews — were ready for us, preparing for a day of coloring, alphabet letters, paste and snacks.