Hold on

I’ll admit: as far as I know, I’m the only person in a first-world country who still likes to be on hold when calling for help. There we have it: I pretty much love it. I don’t understand what the problem is for those poor folks who dislike it. What’s not to like?

First, grab a book or magazine, and the time flies. Better yet, learn the song that they’re playing on their continuous loop, and learn it. Then sing along, only better.

Actually, I’ll admit, it’s the music that makes me love being on hold. I love being on hold, listening to their stupid music, knowing that dozens of other people are listening to the same music as I am at that very second. For some reason it seems way cooler than listening to the radio, which is also (obviously) listened to by multiple people at a time.

I like to sit on hold, listening to their music, and pray for the other people listening to that exact same music. I like to think that they’re having a good day (though let’s face it, they’re on hold, which most people consider a waste of a day), or I like to think that if they’re not having a good day (which we’ve basically established that they’re not) then my little prayer for them will help their day get better. I don’t know their names, obviously, or anything of the sort, but I know what they’re doing at that exact moment—just doing the same thing I am.

And you know what? Somehow it makes being on hold seem not all that bad.