First of all, since I had my baby it has flattened into the shape and consistency of a pair of week-old, dried-out pancakes. And not silver dollars, either–those gigantic, ottoman-size ones you see on episodes of Man vs. Food. You know how people say “She has an ass that just won’t quit?” Okay, so they only said it in the 80s in cheesy boner comedies, but still. You get it. And mine? Has quit. From the looks of it, it was not an amicable departure. She just cut and run.

But that’s not the only vindictive thing my butt has done to me lately. Now that I have an infant that I have to haul around everywhere, I have to stow my phone in odd places, like in the front pocket of my diaper bag, in the hood of my son’s jacket, or between my teeth like a fresh technological kill. Mostly, though, I keep it in my butt pocket (there’s extra room now; see above re: pancake), and even though I am not sitting down, as soon as I am wrangling the baby into his stroller, or whipping my boob out in a busy cafe under the awkward cover of a Hooter Hider, I will hear those tell-tale buttons firing. It’s a butt dial, and there’s no way to know who will get hit.

"Hello, 911? I'd like to report an emergency. These jeans are doing NOTHING for me."

Except, actually, there is: ANYONE IT WOULD MORTIFY ME TO BUTT DIAL. I never accidentally call, say, my mom, or even my pediatrician. You know who my butt loves to talk to? My ex-boyfriend, who broke up with me ten years ago (yes, I still have his number–we’re friendly, but not on butt terms anymore). My 90 year-old great uncle. The manager of the Four Seasons restaurant who I interviewed as part of my job last year. And not his work number–his personal cell. The best butt dial of recent memory was the order my rear end placed to the local chicken joint that my husband and I call for takeout about once a week. Listen, ass. If you WANTED a chicken thigh wrap with extra chipotle mayo, why didn’t you just ASK?

Yeah, I know I can lock my keypad, but seeing as I do everything these days with one non-dominant hand, I’d like to avoid making life harder for myself.

Can someone please give my butt a new job so that she stops using up all of my minutes?

Photo Credit

Heck, I’m so busy jabbing my index finger on the number zero, waiting for the magic moment when my call will get placed in line for a human, that I go into a trance when I need to make a 1-800 call.

If I hear a robot asking me to explain what my call is about I can spend five minutes trying variations of asking for, “help”, “customer service”, and “supervisor” before going ape-shit. I’ll tell you what my call is about! My call is about TALKING TO A PERSON WITH A PULSE MOTHERTRUCKER!!

Finally, I’ll hear the words I’ve waited 12 minutes to hear, “we are transferring your call.”

My reward is the smooth sounds of vintage Yanni and I put my cell phone on speaker as I carry on with my morning, waiting for excellence in customer service.

I read that while on hold our calls are being recorded. Yes. It made me wonder what sort of training manual I was contributing to because the really, really good stuff  happens while I am on hold.

While on hold:

• I’ve had conversations with my mother about which sperm donor profile I should order on-line
• I’ve gone to the bathroom 15 gajillion times
• I’ve discussed, at great length, lawn care with people taking care of the yard
• I’ve bathed, changed, fed, burped, and read books to my son
• I’ve frantically searched my house for my social security card/ credit card/ wallet/ keys/ coffee

These recordings are compressed and stored on hard drives and listened to. Somewhere in Florida there is a guy in a cube fast forwarding through my call about the mold I found on the cap of a jug of juice. And because these companies are paid to listen for keywords like, “wow!”  he has to stop to listen to the fantastic hold moment I gifted him:

“Oh WOW! Oh holy MOTHER of WOW!!!!! That is the biggest poop EVER!! WOW!!!!! Are you kidding me with this?!!”

I’ve had some pretty shitty calls with customer service before and only just recently have started reminding the people on the other end of the phone, “you know this call is being recorded, right?” PAUSE. And then a total attitude change. No kidding.

This is a Goonie moment for us, people. These are OUR recordings. Take them back! Remind the robots that you know about quality assurance and do your part to assure it.

And if you are in a good mood place your phone next to the T.V. the next time you are on hold so the folks in the cubes can catch up on their stories. It’s all about random acts of kindness, people.