Cancel. The. Account.

“I regret to inform you that the deadline has passed.”

There was a silence birthing over the phone.

It was either a battle of attrition or a pissing contest. Neither one was thinking about if anyone ever really wins these.

Somewhere in the annals of manuals and according to Hoyle customer service decision trees an error was made. Undoubtedly.

But epistemologically speaking, only one party in this two party event, knew of this error; and this party was not going to divulge the mistake. Not even close.

The damn broke.

“I regret to inform you that you fucking need to waive the fucking fee!”

“Mr. Donaldson we cannot waive the fee.”

Notice the use of the safer pronoun we. Safety in numbers. The fabric of society -social capital- had been dying since the 60’s and was on death’s door at the moment but Mr. Customer service here invokes the we like we’re back in WWII manufacturing tanks or sewing uniforms for the boys on the continent.

“The fee can and will be waived. Because there was no fault on the part of the customer. This is bad business! This opt out tactic. Who do you think you’re dealing with? Opt out…my ass.”

“The deadline has passed and communication was made regarding the-

“You know what? Cancel the account.”

Another silence filled their phones like helium in a balloon.

“Mr. Donaldson we can spread the fee payment out over a number of months.”

“Cancel. The. Account.”

One of them was as cool as a cucumber now. Comfortable in the silence. Knew the outcome well in advance at this point.

“Mr. Donaldson?”