“Our Second Level of Service”
I consider myself something of a connoisseur of euphemism and double talk. Politicians and military folk in particular provide plenty of examples of imprecise or euphemistic or jargon-laden speech ultimately signifying nothing. They just have so much truth to obscure, they quickly become adept at the ponderous turn of a bad phrase.
One of my recent favorites is the so-called “incentives package” the United States and Europe is offering Iran, in order for it to stop developing nuclear technology. In the ordinary world, an “incentives package” is rightfully called a bribe.
I’ve also found a cute example of euphemism among call center employees (I almost called them “telephone support technicians”…but that would be a euphemism!). Have you ever called a company for technical support and been told they are going to transfer you to “our second level of service?”
It feels pretty good, when it happens. You think to yourself, “Second level of service! I’m really getting serviced now!” And indeed you are getting serviced. Which itself is a euphemism…
For about a year, I have been using a credit monitoring service to track the fluctuations in my FICO score; the cost is nominal, $4.95 a month, but I don’t want to pay for it anymore. Since buying our home a couple months ago, I no longer feel it is necessary to have my credit report and FICO score mailed to me every quarter. Basically, I’ve accomplished the one thing for which I needed to watch my credit score: I’ve bought a home.
So I called them up and after the usual “Press one for…Press two for…” crap that you have to deal with, and then a five to seven minute wait on hold, I was connected to the lovely Rita, who sounded Indian or Pakistani.
Verified name, address, social security. Finally I told her my simple request: I want to cancel my monthly subscription to this service.
“Are you sure you want to do that, Sir? You do realize there are many benefits…” so she launches into her two minute spiel about why I don’t want to cancel my membership. Obviously, she’s reading a text. So I tune her out and wait for her to be done.
“No thank you, I still want to cancel,” I say, when she is done.
“OK, just a minute, Sir. Er, to complete your request, I must transfer you to our second level of service. Now before I transfer you, let me give you this special coupon code that entitles you to ten percent off any future services…”
“No thanks, really, just transfer me, please,” I say.
My interruption seemed to flummox her.
“Are you sure? This is a special coupon code that entitles you to…”
“I’m sure I don’t want the coupon code. I just want to cancel my membership. Please.”
“OK, Sir, I am transferring you to our second level of service now.”
And the line goes dead.
After resting my sore “automated phone support” fingers for a moment, and then after having a good weep (I waited a long time on hold to talk to Rita), I called back.
I waited on hold probably five minutes. No muzak, just the automated voice telling me, every thirty seconds, “You’re call is very important to us. Please stay on the line and our phone representative will disconnect you momentarily.”
Well, that isn’t quite what the recording said, but almost.
This time I got Thomas, who also sounded Indian or Pakistani. Did the whole verification thing over again. Finally, I told him what I wanted to do. I want to cancel my membership.
“OK, I can do that for you, Sir.”
“You aren’t going to transfer me to your ’second level of service’?” I ask.
“Do you want me to transfer you to our second level of service?” He shoots back.
“Absolutely not,” I said.
“Good. I can take care of this right now for you.”
I didn’t ask the obvious question, “What is your second level of service, anyway?” I can imagine the pat answer: “Our second level of service is a support supervisor who takes over from the technical support representative in order to more adequately meet the customer’s needs.”
Instead, I waited patiently, praying Thomas would not change his mind and decide to transfer me after all. Finally, all was well. Thomas asked me if I wanted a coupon code for ten percent off my future purchases from the company. I agreed eagerly. Got a pen and post-it waiting, Thomas. Shoot. Gimme that lovely coupon code.
That taken care of, I decide to blog about it. That’s just the way of the world today, I guess.