I sat on my couch with anticipation. I listened to the automated menu choices with the phone glued to my ear.
It had taken two months, but my Citibank credit card had finally arrived in the mail and it was time to get this sucker activated.
“Hello, this is Sam,” said a gentleman with a thick, Indian accent on the other end of the line (who somehow doesn’t sound like a Sam to me), “How can I help you today?”
I gave out each bit of information that Sam prompted me for, and after a few minutes, Sam instructed me that my card had been activated.
This is where the end of the story should come in, but oh no, Sam spoke again. Sam’s speaking had now quickened in pace, so much in fact, that this heavy accent started to become less like just an accent and more like a foreign language all together.
He continued on with this fast, unintelligible pace for the next five minutes or so until he stopped abruptly and said, “Yes or no?”
I asked him to repeat the question. Sam began again, and after a few moments he stopped and asked once more, “Yes or no?”
Still having absolutely no idea what he was asking of me, I replied, “No.”
“No?” asked Sam on the other line as if I had gotten the answer wrong.
“No,” I said in an assuring tone. Sam did a fabulous job of making 100 percent sure that my answer was indeed “no” for the next half hour.
Approximately 15 “no’s” later, Sam no longer seemed to be taking “no” for an answer.
“Yes?” I finally answered. “Yes?” Sam happily replied as his speech became suddenly clear, “You will receive a bill in the mail after 30 days.”
“What? No, wait! I don’t want that!” I retorted.
“Is there anything else I can help you with today?” inquired Sam. My frustration was mounting. I gave Sam one final no, deciding that I would just have to call back and work this out with someone else.
I dialed the customer service number again, only this time to hear a woman’s voice on the other line, same accent, but more understandable.
“Yes, I called a moment ago and had my card activated, but I think that I was signed up for a service that I didn’t want,” I informed the woman allegedly named Sarah.
So once more, I went through all of my account information with Sarah. We were getting somewhere now.
Your card is now activated,” Sarah cheerfully announced, “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Speechless, I sat as I had just realized the only word she had understood from me earlier was “activate.”
Sarah then took a deep breath and started into the same half hour long speil that Sam had just put me through.
“Wait! This is what the last guy signed me up for!” I exclaimed.
“Yes or no?” asked Sarah. “I just want a credit card!” I pleaded.
“Yes or no?” Sarah repeated.
An hour had passed, and Sarah seemed to finally be finished.
“Is there anything else I can help you with today?” inquired Sarah.
“Supervisor!” I said with a now angry tone. Luckily, this was the one word that the people of Citibank understood and it worked. The supervisor and I understood each other.
I now have my own question for you, Citibank: Will Morgan ever recommend your customer service to anyone? Yes or no?

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