Alright, so today was one of those days. Yep, had to make a “george call.” I swear, these things are a throwback to another era, but here we are, still doing them. It’s not like you can just send an email or fill out some quick online form. Oh no, that would be too easy.
My Journey with the “george call”
First thing, I had to actually find the darn form. It’s supposed to be in the shared drive, but it never is, or it’s an old version. So, I rummaged through my desk drawer, hoping I still had a physical copy from last time. Found one, a bit crumpled, but usable. It’s one of those forms, you know, with tiny boxes and specific instructions printed in a font so small you need a magnifying glass.
Then came the filling out part. You can’t just type into it, not this sacred document. It has to be filled out by hand, and they prefer a blue ballpoint pen. Don’t ask me why, it’s just one of those unwritten rules. I made sure to press hard enough for the carbon copies underneath. Yes, carbon copies. In this day and age.
Once the paperwork was wrestled into submission, the actual “call” part began. This isn’t a call to a helpful person. It’s usually to an automated line, or sometimes, if you’re really unlucky, to an extension that rings and rings and then just cuts off. Today, I braced myself and dialed. The line picked up after about five rings with that weird, slightly distorted music they play.
I navigated the menu. “Press 1 for new requests, Press 2 for status updates…” you know the drill. I pressed 1. Then I had to punch in a bunch of codes from the form. One wrong digit and you have to start all over again. I double-checked everything, speaking the numbers out loud to myself like a crazy person. My cubicle neighbors are used to it by now.
- Felt like I was defusing a bomb, carefully entering each code.
- The system then asked me to “state the nature of my request clearly after the tone.”
- I read out the summary I’d painstakingly written on the form, trying to sound clear and concise, hoping the ancient voice recognition software would get it.
After that, it gave me a reference number. A long one. I scribbled it down on the form itself, because if you lose that, you’re sunk. There’s no easy way to look it up later. That reference number is your lifeline to whatever it is George is supposed to do.
Finally, I had to take the physical form, with the newly acquired reference number, and walk it over to the “George” drop-box. It’s literally a wooden box in another department, looks like something out of a suggestion box competition from the 90s. I popped it in.
And now, we wait. That’s the “george call” process. It’s done. For now. Will it get processed correctly? Will I hear back in a timely manner? Who knows. It’s always a bit of a gamble. But hey, I did my part. Another day, another george call handled. It’s just how things work around here, I guess. You just get on with it.
