Adam, Amazon, and God
This is a blog that wrote itself. I know this because my husband, Adam, said, "Christy, this is a blog that would write itself. You HAVE to blog about how it's a very good thing that God does not have customer service like Amazon.com."
First, I have to make a disclaimer. I have never had one tiny bit of trouble with Amazon. I love the website, I depend on the service, and I'm a loyal customer. That being said, I have never tried to find the 800-number on Amazon's website, which was the problem du jour. Apparently, there is no phone number listed. Anywhere. What Adam did finally find was a "click here if you want an immediate call back" button. And "Todd" did call him back, but put him on automatic hold for six-and-a-half minutes.
"What if God did this, Christy? What if God had a system that demanded that you enter all of your information, and then He called you back and put you on hold?"
He kind of does, I think, but I couldn't very well express that theory to the madman with the phone on his ear, waiting for customer service.
"That would be terrible," I said, instead, trying to act in a conspiratorial manner. "But I would love it if God had a website."
God.com. I have no doubt that someone owns this particular domain, but I highly doubt that it is God. I think they tried to portray a version of God online in the movie "Bruce Almighty"; millions and millions of emails to God pouring in, separated into different prayer categories, overloading the never-ending inbox. But it's the "contact me" button that could get a little tricky. Would God answer? Direct you to a live chat with a support person? Or, like "Todd," call you back and put you on hold?
It's not really that big of a stretch. If prayers are like contacting God's customer service, sometimes we're on hold for years, and even then, we might not get the results we expect.
"You're going to be angry at the person on the other end of the phone, aren't you?" I ask.
"Yep."
"You're going to tell them about their terrible customer service, aren't you?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"Of course I am. No 800-number? Ridiculous."
And when "Todd" finally answered, I hear Adam say to him, "I know this is not your fault, Todd, but I have to tell you something. . . "
I know this is not your fault, God, but I have to tell you something. . .
If God did have a website, it might not be so different after all.
First, I have to make a disclaimer. I have never had one tiny bit of trouble with Amazon. I love the website, I depend on the service, and I'm a loyal customer. That being said, I have never tried to find the 800-number on Amazon's website, which was the problem du jour. Apparently, there is no phone number listed. Anywhere. What Adam did finally find was a "click here if you want an immediate call back" button. And "Todd" did call him back, but put him on automatic hold for six-and-a-half minutes.
"What if God did this, Christy? What if God had a system that demanded that you enter all of your information, and then He called you back and put you on hold?"
He kind of does, I think, but I couldn't very well express that theory to the madman with the phone on his ear, waiting for customer service.
"That would be terrible," I said, instead, trying to act in a conspiratorial manner. "But I would love it if God had a website."
God.com. I have no doubt that someone owns this particular domain, but I highly doubt that it is God. I think they tried to portray a version of God online in the movie "Bruce Almighty"; millions and millions of emails to God pouring in, separated into different prayer categories, overloading the never-ending inbox. But it's the "contact me" button that could get a little tricky. Would God answer? Direct you to a live chat with a support person? Or, like "Todd," call you back and put you on hold?
It's not really that big of a stretch. If prayers are like contacting God's customer service, sometimes we're on hold for years, and even then, we might not get the results we expect.
"You're going to be angry at the person on the other end of the phone, aren't you?" I ask.
"Yep."
"You're going to tell them about their terrible customer service, aren't you?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"Of course I am. No 800-number? Ridiculous."
And when "Todd" finally answered, I hear Adam say to him, "I know this is not your fault, Todd, but I have to tell you something. . . "
I know this is not your fault, God, but I have to tell you something. . .
If God did have a website, it might not be so different after all.
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