Hell's Theme Music

Fifty-five minutes and counting on hold with Blue Shield to appeal a denied claim. When the hold music--a loop of an innocuous hillbilly guitar--comes to an end, there's the scratching noise that one used to hear at the end of a vinyl LP. There's probably some poor clerk in there, flipping the tone arm back to the beginning every minute or so.

Blue Shield probably paid a composer a few hundred dollars to write this obnoxious little ditty, and if it has the same effect on other callers that it's having me, which is to make me want to hang up and scream, it was money well spent. They don't have to answer our pesky questions or to reverse their unwarranted denials. Every now and then, a recorded voice comes on to inform me that they have an unusually high call volume (sure!) and to reassure me that my call is important to them and that my call will be answered in the order it was received... but if I'd like to call back another time, they're less busy early in the day.

Last time I tried calling later in the day, the system just kept me on hold until the end of the business day. So I'm not falling for that again.

I wouldn't subject myself to this torture without good reason, so here are the specifics, without getting too graphic. I have a chronically high PSA level, and six months ago I had a biopsy. My third. It was negative. However, my urologist in southern California recommended that I have PSA levels checked every six months. But I'm up in Oakland now, and don't have a urologist. So, with the six month time nearing, I got my doctor here to make a referral to a urologist I found on the Blue Shield site.

I went for the appointment and filled out a form or two.  I just wanted them to have my name in their patient roster so if I started peeing blood one day I'd have someone to call. But the good doctor--Columbia and Yale, so I think he knows his business--performed a brief examination and ordered a blood test. I didn't ask for any of this, but I suppose if I were in his position (it was more comfortable than the position I was in, let's say) I'd have done the same. All told, it took around 20 minutes. The bill was $1,096 dollars. Blue Shield paid none of it. They don't seem to want to discuss it, though. An hour and fifteen minutes now, and counting.  

I have the phone set on speaker, and the tinny music warbles out; a sound  track to my increasing annoyance. About forty minutes a ago, a human (or a very effective simulation) came on the line. I briefly explained the problem.

"Oh, let me connect you with claims," he said. I'd found the number I'd called on the Blue Shield website, but maybe I'd dialed some general number and not a specific one for claims.

"Am I going to have to wait another 40 minutes?"

"Oh, no. I'll connect you." And a moment later, the same theme music came on. I checked the website and indeed, the number I had called was the number for claims. You'd think Blue Shield could afford to commission another tune just so callers would know they were at least making progress.

So here I remain, having memorized every note, fearing I might have gotten onto a hold system that is eternal. Hells theme music. I've read about savants who can play a piece of classical music after hearing it one time. I'm not a savant, but I've heard this tune so many times now that I think  I could pluck it out. And I don't play guitar.

I took the phone with me into the bathroom when I had to pee, certain that if I left it unattended for more than five seconds another person at Blue Shield would pick up the line, say, "Hello? Hello?" and then hang up.

No reassuring voice comes on the line anymore to tell me that my call is important to them and that my call will be answered in the order it was received.

But the story has a happy ending. After an hour and 25 minutes on hold, Banny came on the line. She corrected the problem, and from $1096, my actual cost will be $62.40. I'm relieved, and I thanked Banny for figuring out the problem: the medical corporation that the doctor is with is "out of network," but the doctor is in it. I'm grateful to Banny, but I wonder how many people in my position--driven mad by hold music--would have just given up and paid the bill.