Customer Service is Dead – We’re No Longer Accepting Human Interaction!

Jan 12

7 min read

Remember when self-service felt like the future? No more sitting on hold for hours, navigating voice prompts that never led anywhere, or being transferred to a guy who "totally understands" before dumping you into another department. Instead, we could just log in and fix things ourselves. It was efficient. It was empowering. We were the Subject Matter Experts of our own problems! No need for repetitive stories and small talk—just cold, hard efficiency.

And corporate America? Oh, they were thrilled. No more paying humans to answer phones! Who needs customer service when you have two-factor authentication? Address changes, bill payments, even troubleshooting—poof!—gone to the automation gods. It was liberating! No more "Can I put you on hold?" Just me, my problem, and an app.

And then… it all went to hell.

Remember that Capital One commercial—"What's in Your Wallet?"—where a customer calls for support, and the guy answers with a goat bleating in the background? That was outsourcing at its finest. At least there was still a person—even if a goat was involved. But today? The goat is gone. So is the person. It’s just you, a chatbot, and a loop of frustration.

This week alone, I’ve been stuck in self-service hell—doctor’s appointments, Amazon returns, medical billing, a broken TV warranty, and a fridge replacement. And after all this, I’ve realized something insane: I don’t work for these companies, but somehow, they’ve tricked me into doing their jobs for them.

Let me break it down with some absolutely mind-blowing examples. You cannot make this sh!t up.

Doctor’s Appointment: A Masterclass in Uselessness

My daughter needed a doctor’s appointment. Their office got swallowed by a larger corporation (yay, efficiency!) and switched to a new computer system. I tried booking online—because self-service! — but, surprise, it failed. Since this was urgent, I drove to the actual office to speak to a real-life human.

Twenty minutes later, after an Olympic-level conversation with the computer in the office, the front desk person manually entered a task into the system (a task!!) asking if the doctor could see my daughter sooner than two months from now. I was promised a call back by the end of the day.

Guess what? No call.

So, I call them. Press 1 for text messaging—because at this point, I’d rather have a conversation via Morse code than endure that soul-crushing hold music again. But no. My urgent issue requires speaking to a human, so I’m forced to listen to the endless loop of corporate-approved suffering.

Finally, someone picks up. I think I’m reaching the same front desk person who created the task. But nope—I’ve been rerouted to a call center that now handles all scheduling.

At this point, I have a serious question: Since I now seem to be working for every company I interact with, do I get an HR department? Do I file a workplace complaint when their broken system makes my job impossible? Can I request a performance review on how well I’m handling their mess? Because I didn’t sign up for this job, and unlike a real one, I can’t just quit and go somewhere else.

The agent—who has no idea who I am or why I have a problem—gets to hear the entire saga again. And judging by their tone, I have personally offended them by daring to bypass the sacred process and speak to an actual human at the doctor's office. How dare I?! Clearly, I have been flagged as a human risk to the AI revolution for seeking out face-to-face interaction. My crime? Attempting to navigate healthcare like it’s still 2005.

But alas, we are once again at the mercy of the system. The all-knowing computer has spoken, and it has determined my fate.

Best Buy: Where Warranties Go to Die (And Customer Service Has Been Conveniently Removed to ‘Improve My Experience’)

Best Buy was once a magical place. My husband and I used to make an event of it—couples’ nights at Best Buy, browsing the latest tech, daydreaming about our next major purchase. We even brought the dog. It was fun! The ultimate playground for gadget lovers.

Best Buy didn’t just replace Sears—it obliterated it, thanks to actual expert help and impeccable in-store customer service. If your computer broke? Geek Squad to the rescue! They even had commercials to remind you they existed. Sure, you had to wait your turn, and sometimes the lines were long, but the warranties were gold, the service was solid, and I actually felt good spending my money there.

And then—customer service died.

The Tale of the TV That Lost Its Magic

Once upon a time, a young couple (spoiler alert: it’s us) bought a glorious TV from Best Buy. It shined, it glowed, it made movie nights feel special. But then, one day… the magic faded.

It was subtle at first—a dim spot here, a flicker there. But no worries, Best Buy to the rescue! We had a warranty! And, being the responsible customers we are, we even saved the original box (because we read the fine print—no box, no service).

So, we carefully packed up the TV, lugged it to the car, and carried it into Best Buy, ready for a smooth exchange. We had no idea that we were about to traumatize an entire store.

The moment we stepped inside, you’d think we had walked in holding a live grenade. The Best Buy manager and employees froze in shock. Their eyes widened. Someone gasped.

And the first thing they said?

“Oh my… you took it off the wall? You shouldn’t have taken it off the wall.”

“Wait… is that the original box?”

We knew right then—we were in trouble.

Best Buy’s New and ‘Improved’ Process

We left with… wait for it…

✔️ A printout of our receipt (because apparently, paper is still a thing?).

✔️ A phone number to call (but not a person to actually help).

✔️ And, of course, the TV still in its original box.

Turns out, Best Buy has optimized (read: outsourced) its warranty process. Now, instead of a quick exchange, a third-party company will come into our home, troubleshoot the TV, and then decide if it should be fixed or replaced.

Oh, and before we left, they had one last question…

“So… can you put it back on the wall?”

Because yes, that’s exactly what I want to do—remount a broken TV and start this circus all over again.

And of course, allow random strangers into my home to inspect and replace a product that I have right here, in the store, at this very moment.

No Netflix tonight, kiddos—just some good old-fashioned staring at the wall!

Telling our Best Buy Story makes me sad. I couldn’t understand how something so great could disappoint my loyalty.

Best Buy wasn’t displaced by competition—it was displaced by itself. It systematically removed everything that made people love going there in the first place. The expert advice, the reliable service, the in-store customer experience—it’s all gone. And in its place? A cold, frustrating, self-service nightmare.

Against our better judgment, we then purchased a refrigerator online. And let’s just say that two months later, after one return—and no, not just some box dropped off at the UPS Store, a whole damn refrigerator—I came to a stark realization: I now have to become an expert in everything just to accomplish basic life tasks.

And honestly? If I could have walked into a Best Buy store, made an appointment, and talked to an actual human before dropping all this money, I would have!

But that’s just not the way the world works anymore.

So, Why Write This?

Maybe I just like to complain. Maybe pointing out life’s ridiculous ironies is my new hobby. Or maybe—just maybe—this is what aging feels like: longing for a time when humans actually talked to other humans.

Remember the good old days? When you called a company and an actual person picked up? When you could walk into a store and get help without first consulting an app, a chatbot, generating a ticket or an endless loop of voice prompts? When you could go to a restaurant and—gasp—be greeted by a host instead of being sent away to await a text message that may never come?

The world is racing ahead with AI, automation, and "efficiency"—all in the name of making life easier.

But let’s be honest: is it really easier?

We’re not just removing humans from the equation—we’re actively disempowering them. We’re telling people they’re no longer the subject matter experts of their own lives. We’re putting doctors, customers, and even employees in a position where they have to argue with a computer about reality.

We are being systematically frustrated into giving up. Or worse—we’re being dulled into accepting the void, to the point where a lonely, empty TV mount actually seems like a reasonable alternative to fighting the system.

The Algorithm of Human Life

Once upon a time, we warned about projects being too technically driven—that we needed human oversight. But now? We’re not even leaving the coding to humans anymore.

It’s no longer what makes sense—it’s simply what the computer says. Based on code once written by humans, now generated by AI, interpreted by a system that dictates how we function in the world.

The algorithm of human life is no longer driven by human logic—it’s driven by machine logic, written by AI, and executed without question. And we’re just along for the ride.

If you’re one of the lucky ones, please—I beg you—share the Easy Button!

Because none of this is easy anymore.

Self-service isn’t service.

Automation isn’t convenience.

And AI isn’t always right.

At what point do we stop and say, "Hey, maybe humans should actually be involved in helping other humans?” Especially when you are in a store with the item to return and the replacement sitting feet away from you. You just can’t do it. The machine said NO! We do not provide customer service in person anymore! This role has been eliminated!

The Irony?

AI was used in writing this article. It gave me ideas I needed, poked at my sentence structure, and even tried to change my jokes.

We argued.

And ultimately? I won.

Because I get to decide what goes into my document.

For now.

Yet, AI takes the win! (If you want the prompt for this little gem lemme know!!!)