I had only tried phoning because an attempt to contact them online had failed. Either the email I had given them or my contact code with them were incorrect.
Could I check them? I checked and double-checked, but to no avail. The customer is never right, after all.
The initial response of the company as I turned to phoning them was their delight that they could be of service to me, plus a long list of options to choose from.
I chose the most likely one and, after a considerable delay and some less than inspiring music, a human voice was heard at the other end.
"Good morning, Peter. Could we please first confirm your first and last name, your date of birth and your address."
The warm, intimate tone was endearing. I was happy to surrender this information and was put on hold till the human voice at the other end digested this information and checked its veracity.
I was then asked to convey my request. Which I gladly did.
After some considerable lapse of time, I was then asked to hold for a second time while she transferred me to an expert on this particular matter.
Time passed, as it does, and I was given the chance to listen again to some music.
And behold, a new voice came on to the scene. This was a very fast talker, with an indeterminate accent, but I managed to get the gist of what she was saying. She would, as I might have expected by now, just like to know my first and last name, my date of birth and my contact number with the company.
She understood that I had a request. Could I explain what it was? I am not a particularly patient person, but do pride myself on a degree of self-control, so I embarked once more on my simple narrative.
This was noted, but it appeared that in her view I was not the account holder.
"Peter, could you please tell me who the account holder is."
This had me completely flummoxed and I repeated my credentials, but it transpired that although I was authorised to use the account (a great relief), I was not the account holder.
I tumbled eventually to the fact that it was in my wife’s name, which the voice must have known, but presumably needed to hear from me in person.
I was beginning to gain in confidence that we might at last be getting somewhere, but now a new demand surfaced. Could Peter please name his pin number?
Unfortunately, Peter was not aware he had a pin number for this outfit and had a hunch that if he confessed this he was in for another round of interminable questions.
Alas, by now, like Jacinda, his tank was empty. His life had been put on hold for rather too long.
So he terminated this memorable call and I fear did so without any warm expressions of gratitude. Indeed he intimated that his relationship with this estimable company might now be coming to an end.
Unfortunately, since it was Holy Week, and he was a conservative guy in such matters, he could not even take solace in some liquid refreshment. But at least this modern equivalent to Lenten flagellation was over.
■The Rev Dr Peter Matheson is Emeritus Professor, Knox Theological College, Dunedin.
