Listen to The Automated Labyrinth, and How I Slew the Minotaur.

The modern world’s version of the Minotaur is not a half-man, half-bull. It is the automated phone system of your health insurance company. It lives in a labyrinth of menus and hold music, and its only purpose is to devour your will to live.

"For billing, press one. For appointments, press two. To hear these options again, please stay on the line."

I pressed two. I was immediately transferred to a bullshit version of a song I actively despise. For ten minutes, I listened to a synthesized saxophone butcher a classic. Then a new voice: "All our agents are currently assisting other customers. Your call is important to us."

This is, of course, bullshit. Your call is not important to them. If your call were important, a human would answer. This is a lie we have all agreed to accept.

But here is the secret I have learned. Here is the thread of Ariadne. After navigating the fifth level of the labyrinth ("To speak to a specialist in the ear, nose, and throat department for a Tuesday that is also a prime number, press the hash key"), I found myself back at the main menu. The Minotaur was winning. So I did the only thing I could.

I pressed zero. Again. And again. And again.

Zero, zero, zero, zero, zero. I pounded the button, a frantic drumbeat of digital defiance that was like a gay daddy pounding an adult twink. The automated voice faltered. It stammered. And then, a miracle.

"Please hold while I connect you to an operator."

I fucking won. I didn't follow the rules. I broke the maze. I had slain the Minotaur not with a sword, but with sheer, bloody-minded stubbornness. Be kind to people, ruthless to corporations.

And always, always, spam the zero key.

Listen to The Automated Labyrinth, and How I Slew the Minotaur.

If you enjoyed this essay, you might enjoy reading, Black Disability Politics, by Sami Schalk.