by J. Michael Byron
When it comes to understanding computer technology, I am almost hopeless. I have really tried, but I can’t seem to catch on to self-help operations that other people find simple. As a result, I am a regular caller to the user “help line.”
The helpers are cordial and competent, but they must shake their heads at some of my crises. Usually they are busy, so I do a lot of waiting.
An automated voice directs me to stay on the line and assures me my call will be handled in the order received. What I don’t know, though, is whether they have twenty calls ahead of mine or two, whether I will be chained to the phone for thirty seconds or thirty minutes. The voice can’t tell me in advance whether my call is worth the wait.
What happens if I need to leave my desk for thirty seconds to retrieve a file or a book from across the room? What if that is the very moment when the live voice patches in, and I’m not there to hear it?
The dreaded phone queue is only a nuisance, not a catastrophe, but I balk at sacrificing whole blocks of productive work hours to waiting. The longer I spend idling on a silent line, the greater the urge to forsake the process.
“Call waiting” signals that others are trying to contact me. The e-mail backlog lengthens on the screen. A co-worker is hanging around the office door, hoping to speak with me. The temptation to forget the whole thing becomes overwhelming.
Expectant waiting has been part of the Judeo-Christian story from the very beginning. Frustratingly, God has been confounding our expectations and schedules for just as long. “How fortunate are those servants whom the master finds alert when he returns,” says Sunday’s gospel. How can our Christian waiting be more than a foolish waste of time and opportunities?
- For what are you willing to stay in line and wait?