Now Hold on a Minute

Tracy Beckerman
Mon, 09 Mar 2026 21:00:00 -0700
Lifestyle

"All of our operators are currently busy with other customers," said the recorded voice on the other end of the line. Then she told me my call was very important to them and would be answered in the order it was received. And this order, apparently, put me at the back of a very long line of other callers who were also so important to them that I would have a wait time of, approximately ...

One hour.

Yes, I'm THAT important.
Updated: Tue Mar 10, 2026

"All of our operators are currently busy with other customers," said the recorded voice on the other end of the line. Then she told me my call was very important to them and would be answered in the order it was received. And this order, apparently, put me at the back of a very long line of other callers who were also so important to them that I would have a wait time of, approximately ...

One hour.

Yes, I'm THAT important.

The issue with being on hold, though, wasn't the hourlong wait. It wasn't the fact that I could wait an hour and then have my call dropped, or even, eventually, talk to an actual person only to be informed that I would have to call another number. It was, simply, the fact that the hold music sounded suspiciously like sweeping medieval music from a Renaissance festival.

There it was, a lute playing a muzak-style theme inspired by "Game of Thrones" through a teeny tiny cellphone speaker. For an hour. You could almost hear the Knights of the Round Table laughing on the other end.

As the music played on, I felt an overwhelming urge to challenge one of the operators to a joust, or at the least throw them in the dungeon. Then I might return to the kitchen and gnaw on a turkey leg for a while and wash it down with a nice chalice of mead. I might even spend a little time polishing my suit of armor just in case the villagers try to storm my castle. All this, of course, while remaining on hold for perpetuity, forced to listen to the Dance of the Three Merry Maidens.

They say music soothes the savage beast, but this music threatened to bring out the savage beast — a dragon, in this case — in me.

I wondered if the powers that be thought that this music was the holy grail of customer service. And just who is it that decides what music to play on hold, anyway? What would possibly convince them that medieval music was the right pick to put their customers in the merry mood to hold on for an obscene amount of time? Did they do studies or focus groups to figure this out? If so, did all the people in the study have a lobotomy? I certainly wanted one after listening to this music for an hour.

Meanwhile, back on hold, a trio of harps began to play something that made me want to go out and catch some faeries. Sadly, there is a shortage of faeries in the suburbs, so I instead decided to just continue to wait on hold and drink some grog to take the edge off.

Just when I thought I would sooner jump in a crocodile-filled moat than listen to another second of this, the music suddenly stopped, and a person picked up the phone.

"Hi, this is Arthur. How can I help you today?"