For Southern, Press Three

I have been having a tiny bit of difficulty lately getting hold of doctor's offices. I mean, a real person with whom to speak. And by tiny I mean almost more than I can freaking stand.

The one doctor whose office was set up to actually be answered by someone, now is on a switch board and, once you can actually get off hold, you have to request her office. Then you get the receptionist that only weeks before was a few rings away. Just for the record, they don't like it either. It, like  many other bizarre decisions in the corporate world, was made by someone who knows nothing about the business.

Another complaint I have about voice mail kind of stuff ( and they are legion - my complaints and voice mail), is the garbage "If you speak English, press one." Last time I checked I'm in an English speaking country, so, I ask, what else should I speak?

But once you actually talk to a person, dang if they speak English. At least in a speed recognizable to human ears (and I talk fast).

There should be an option that goes something like: "If you speak Southern, press three."  Now we're talkin'!

"Hey, kin I hep ye?"

"I reckon. How's yore Aint Nel Sue?"

"Wahl, she's doin a right smart better. I 'preciate you a'askin me. How's yore mama?"

"That's what Ahm callin fer. She's ailin agin. I know we's 'posed to be 'spectin it, when they git up in yars, but, dang, it's hard."  (sniff)

"Now, honey, don't you cry on me. I know it's a hard thang. But we'll get old Doc Adams to see her right quick like. She'll be right as rain in no time."

"Thank ye, Bertha. You always was a angel."

Now, isn't that better?

And then there is the software where you talk into your computer instead of type.

Not if you speak southern, you don't.

Husband purchased one of these several years ago. Now, he didn't need it, but it was a new gadget, so of course, he had to have it.

The directions said there shouldn't be a lot of unnecessary background noise that the mic might pick up while dictating.

So, Husband banished Daughter and me from speech. Nay, not just speech, but any  noise at all. No sneezing, no coughing, no blowing of nose, and certainly no laughter.

Husband was on the other side of the wall. Daughter and I were sitting side by side trying to read. Except Husband in his very southern Appalachian voice, would drawl into the computer a sentence: "The large tiger jumped off the rocks with power and attacked the man."

The computer: "The large Tie Jerk jumped off the rocks with pear and untacked the man."

Husband: "Scratch that." (this is what he said when misunderstood or had a change of mind.)

Every sentence he said was misunderstood, and then we would hear "Scratch that."

Did you know you can laugh so hard tears roll down your face, you can be holding your belly because you are laughing so hard, and you don't have to make a sound?  It's true.

Wasn't long before Husband scratched the whole idea and went back to his two finger typing, which serves him well unto this day. He's up to five words a minute.

Wait. Scratch that. Make it six.