phone tree
I tried
Someone wanted to meet with me for counseling.
They wanted to use insurance.
I called the number that appears on the back of their insurance card, to determine their benefits that relate to meeting with me for counseling services. I found myself going around and around with the automated morass of the phone tree, and then was prompted to enter my FAX number, after which I was emailed an electronic FAX, which contained – in a not-so-obvious spot on the page, and in a not so obvious font size – a secret code to punch in, to connect me to an actual live representative, who I thought would have the answer to my questions, but whose department did not actually have the information I needed, so the representative had to transfer me to another department, for which she also provided a different “direct” phone line, after which I was promptly put on hold, and after which I waited, and after which I waited longer, until eventually, after 20 minutes, a recording came on to announce to me that there was too much call volume to take my call.
So, I wrote to the person and expressed grief that the managed care system which they are wishing to use is unfortunately not functionally in alignment with my current administrative practices.
I referred them to seek other counselors who might have sufficient resources such as hired clerical staff to attend to these sorts of matters.
This is a predicament for everyone involved.
This experience points to interesting concerns, like how we wish or chose to spend our time (whether on administrative tasks, or on face-to-face counseling, or on other things such as gardening or cooking or chess), mortality (the context of the finitude of our time here on earth), limits (what we’re ok with or not), and the existential sense of choice.
David Levingston
Like everyone, I have different sides. Counselor, photographer, writer, cooker of food – both spicy and plain, and seeker of truth and happiness. I have always taken an interest in the unassuming things that pass us by – both heard and seen, both ordinary and not so ordinary. They are all sacred and beautiful in some way.