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How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping?

I have to admit that I didn’t think it would be easy, but despite reassurances that my necessary changes could be made more quickly and trouble-free online, I doubted their confidence in the online process then opted for Plan B: the telephone.

“We are experiencing heavier than usual calls,” a serious voice said as soon as my call went through “and all our agents are busy,” it continued. “But your call is important to us and an overworked minimum-waged agent  will be required to serve you as soon as one is available.” Well no, the voice didn’t actually say that -my imagination sometimes alters stuff, I think.

Anyway, after an interminable delay offering only execrable canned music I actually put my phone on the counter and began making lunch as I waited. The unfortunate but strangely unfatigued  voice (either a bot, or someone who had been tempted by offers of enough money to support his family in a little village back home but who was now chained to a chair in a dark windowless office in a foreign country) tried at intervals to set me at ease; then, like the DJ’s of my youth played the ‘music’ again for another 2 minutes.

Tiring of this, I hung up (do we still do that with smartphones?) after 27 minutes of voice alternating with noise. I decided to try Plan A again after coffee and a peanut butter and jam sandwich.

That was a mistake. The government-designed web site kept telling me that my password was incorrect, and then after 2 mistakes threatened me that it would close the program if I made one more mistake; it suggested I change the password just in case. (Did you forget your username or are  you not sure of your password and want to create a new one?). And then, when I finally managed to change it, (overly conscious of capitalizing the first letter of each element and throwing in a #, and then seeding the now totally impossible to remember password with scattered *s and two @s) I submitted it, forgetting that the little eye symbol at the end of the password space would allow me to see it as I typed.

Cleverly aware that I was allowed only 3 mistakes again before I was shut out of the website and my name forwarded to CSIS, I painstakingly and slowly tapped in my newly approved one. Then the website, no doubt instructed to further intimidate me, required me to type in a series of numbers awarded to me in a personalized text to prove I was who I was claiming to be. After having to correct for getting the order of the numbers wrong on my first attempt, I aced it on the second; it’s devilishly difficult to type with your fingers crossed…

I suppose this Jeremiad is merely an attempt to suggest that despite my best intentions and despite all of the vagaries and vicissitudes of my attempts, I was denied access to the privileges supposedly awarded to all tax-paying citizens (which is what I was trying to prove I was in the first place). So, in a come to Jesus moment, I closed the cover of my laptop, and vowed I would try again in the morning – on the phone, that is…

The government office apparently opened at 0800 hr (not 8 AM, you understand) and although I open at 0600 I still waited until 0801 to pick up my phone. Same message as yesterday: “We are experiencing heavier than usual calls,” the same overly serious voice said as soon as my call went through “and all our agents are busy!” It occurred to me that perhaps he hadn’t had enough sleep last night, because I thought I detected a ‘just fooling, eh?’ in his tone.

He could at least have changed the music for me, but I couldn’t even vocalize my complaint before the sweet, soft voice of a live agent (I had to hope) asked me how she could help me. I have to admit that I hadn’t expected such dulcet tones from a government employee, so I had to reorganize my thoughts for her.

“I… I’ve been trying to opt out of the property tax deferral that I’ve used for the past few years… But I couldn’t seem to do it online…” I thought maybe she might wonder why – (it was because the Government had decided to increase the interest rate and charge compound interest on any continuing deferrals). Still, I figured they had a good reason for doing that and didn’t want to blame the agent. But, I wondered if I’d made a strong enough case to justify taking up her time.

“I got confused at all the passwords and information on the different online pages, so although I tried to change things, I wondered if I messed up.” I took a deep breath to indicate that although I was old (I always try to play the Old Card, eh?) I just wanted to check.

She asked me the same questions the computer had (but nicely -like my mother might have done) and I shuffled through the papers I had collected on the desk in front of me to find the correct line of numbers and government identifiers for her. She was so patient with me!

“I was going to ask my son or daughter-in-law to help me, but they live their busy lives in a different city, so…”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m more than happy to help,” she said in her reassuring gentle voice, and I could hear her tapping away at her keyboard. She seemed so cheery, and so understanding, I could hardly believe it. “Well, good for you sir (for a moment I actually thought she said ‘son’), you have done it correctly! And, looking at some other information on the government page, you seem to have aced all their other requirements as well.”

She sounded so pleased, I almost asked her for her name, but I thought that was a bit too forward, so I simply thanked her.

“Remember that because you aren’t deferring anymore, you have to pay your local government office before the due date.”

Just like my mom reminding me that I should brush my teeth before I went to bed… I couldn’t help thinking of the promise of ice cream and pie for dessert if I finished my dinner…

I may never go back to online forms…

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