“Okay, mom, I’m coming down,” I told my mom, getting ready for my orthodontist appointment. I went through a checklist mentally. Clothing? Check. Glasses? Check. Cell phone? Check. Watch? Hold on a sec.

I grabbed my watch and was about to strap it on when I noticed that the strap had broken. Where there should have been solid resin was a crack. I frowned. Although it was a $25 watch, it was still the best watch I had.

A year ago, I lost my prized watch after a year of use, so I bought another one of the same brand, but the new one never performed as well as my watch did, so when my friend finally found my old one in his drawer (somehow) I began using it again, even though it was of a light blue color that some people called “baby” blue.

I wanted to fix my prized watch, I thought to myself. That afternoon, I looked up their returns support number and called it.

“Hello. You have. Reached. Timex. Customer. SUPPORT,” a broken voice said, suddenly jumping from loud to soft, from one tone to the other.

“Your estimated wait time is. One. Minute.”

Music began playing, and I sat down to wait, grabbing a magazine and flipping through. Around half a minute passed before the music stopped.

“Your estimated wait time is. One. Minute,” it said again.

I frowned. I would wait then. Another half minute passed.

“Your estimated wait time is. One. Minute.”

My eyes closed in annoyance. Telling people honestly the estimated time was one thing that should be done on all phone systems, I thought furiously, but there was no point complaining.

Suddenly, the music stopped, and a ring tone began playing.

Buzz. Buzz.

I waited eagerly, thinking over what I would say. Good afternoon, sir. My watch strap has broken. Model number 171. Oh, you’ll replace it for free? You are too kind. Thank you.

I snorted at this. The buzzing stopped and a human voice began to speak.

“Your estimated wait time is. One. Minute.”

What? What was going on? I thought I was going to reach a person.

“Your estimated wait time is. One. Minute.”

I groaned.