mindcycle

A beatiful song. I don’t like the video, though.

Almost three years ago, I reached the end of well known, largely straight and even road. I had known this was going to happen and I had seen, from quite some distance, the rough outline of a huge area in which the road was about to terminate.

Once arrived, I was overwhelmed by its size and beauty, its spirit of freedom. But as nice as this place appeared to me to be, I knew it wasn’t my final destination — too much was missing. From the distance it had always seemed like a place of perfect clarity. But now that I was there, I realized nothing was clear. In whichever direction I walked, all I saw were mist and fog. The clammy air obscured my sight and made me shiver. I was able, though, to make out a number of lanes leading through the mysterious curtain. But it was impossible to see beyond their outsets.

I wanted to continue my journey — I had to make a decision, a choice. But which way should I take? I excluded one or the other. But still, the number of serious possibilities outnumbered those I rejected. I started running around the area asking myself a thousand questions that I knew I couldn’t answer. As if the additional confusion would make the fog disappear …I didn’t really know what I was looking for, but I was afraid to take the wrong way.

I cannot remember how, but for some reason I ended up considering a couple of routes more carefully. Then, suddenly, I recognized a small flash of light in the distance. All the ways were narrow and their entries so close to one another that I had difficulties to tell where the flicker came from. I made my best guess and stepped onto a tiny path that I considered a middle way. Though all of them seemed narrow, this one, I hoped, might broaden again.

It turned out to be a trail, rather than a well paved walkway. Completely unlike the road I had known. But I was lucky: I left behind fog and mist and walked out into sunshine. It felt comfortable walking here, though the trail became ever far less straight and shallow. Open land surrounded me. It didn’t take me too long to realize this was my way. It was made for me.

A year ago I had the opportunity to take one of the little loop ways I observed along the trail. It would lead me away from my original path but take me back here for sure. In the loop, it seemed, there was magic to be discovered. I had a hard time deciding for one of these loops. In the end, however, there was – again – a tiny blink of light pulling me forward. I didn’t try to resist the urge and took my chance. Once I had entered the loop, it felt like a stupid idea. But a little further on, I realized what a treasure it was being able to take this route!

It hasnt been long that I returned from the loop. Shortly before I came back to my trail, I realized it’s about to end already. I’ve literally fallen in love with this trail; I enjoy every single step. But as I am walking ahead, I ever see myself approaching its expiration.

Fortunately, I am not approaching a dead end. The area I will reach this time is going to be small. But it might well offer as many entries to further paths as the one I found myself in three years ago. The trails, paths and streets starting from here might be even narrower, but there are plenty of them. Some I know I wouldn’t want to go … but again, I cannot see where these ways lead after the first few steps.

Still, all I’ll have to do is make another decision.

Diesen Satz höre ich nun seit fünfzehn Minuten, gefühlten zwei Stunden, und frage mich, ob “freie Mitarbeiter” vielleich ein Codewort für “Mensch, der dich wieder in die Warteschleife schiebt” ist. Ich hänge am Servicetelefon einer gewissen deutschen Bank. Deren unheimlich toller bundesweite Service hat eben zum dritten Mal versucht mich an die zuständigen Kollegen durchzustellen. Und zum dritten Mal geht in der entsprechenden Filiale niemand an den sprechenden Knochen.

Mir scheint, auch hartnäckige Kunden werden erfolgreich ignoriert indem man sie schlicht wieder an die Warteschleife des bundesweiten Telefonservice zurück reicht, wo sie nach unheimlich nerviger Wartemusik wieder auf einen immer neuen Ansprechpartner treffen, dessen einzige Kompetenz offenbar in einem weiteren zum Scheitern verurteilten Verbindungsaufbau zu einem noch immer nicht besetzten Arbeitsplatz besteht.

Der Leser mag sich fragen, was denn überhaupt der Grund für meinen Anruf ist. Ihm sei gesagt, dass ich seit Juli versuche 30€ Gebühren zurück zu bekommen, die mir “versehentlich”, wie es im August hieß, in Rechnung gestellt wurden.

Zurück zum Kundencenter: Nummer vier begrüße ich mit dem freundlichen Hinweis, dass mich bereits drei Servicemitarbeiter nach Osnabrück verbunden haben, aber die Kollegen dort NICHT abnehmen. Am anderen Ende wird es still. Man wühlt in meinen Kundendaten auffällig lange herum, sodass ich schon vermute jemand sei ernsthaft bemüht sich meiner Sache anzunehmen.

Doch denkste! Was kommt nach einigem Gemurmel? — “Tut mir leid, da kann ich nichts machen, die zuständige Kollegin muss das bearbeiten.” Himmel! Hat denn in diesem SERVICE Center niemand irgendeine Kompetenz, die über das Tastenfeld des Telefons hinaus geht?

Der Online Dienst funktioniert übrigens nicht besser: Auch hier landet man mit jeder Antwort bei einem neuen Mitarbeiter und jeder verspricht bloß, dass er meine Anfrage an die zuständige Stelle weiterleite.

Ich fühle mich erinnert, an “Das Haus, das Verrückte macht” und den “Passierschein A38″. Asterix beendet sein Herumgeschicktwerden, indem er nach Passierschein A39 fragt und die Beamten im Haus in Aufruhr versetzt. Vielleicht sollte ich beim nächsten Mitarbeiter versuchen nach 40€ Erstattung zu fragen? Angesichts des bis dato erbrachten Aufwands, wäre das glatt noch geschönt!