Saturday, July 14, 2007
Years ago, a church we no longer attend implemented an automated prayer request service named Amos.
Amos, who sounded like a very respectable church elder, would call at the most inappropriate times during the day – sometimes three times a day – to announce that someone has requested prayer for this or that. It was amazingly odd to have the church call us using a computer.
No matter what scale of chaos we were in, when the phone rang we stopped what we were frantically doing to answer. There would always be a pause and then…
“AMOS! From the church! So and so has requested your prayers for a new car!” or “AMOS! From the church! Your prayers are requested for so and so because they have a hang nail!”
Did I mention we no longer attend this church? It was a snit I was in years ago when I called them to let them know that husband’s father had died. They immediately asked for a donation and then sent (via the mail) a book on how to grieve. Something inside me went very, very cold. It hasn’t warmed up yet, and AMOS was getting on my last nerve.
I would have called the church and requested that I be removed from the list, but I have a feeling there is a special place in hell for people that do that.
Today the phone rang and expecting one of the kids, I answered. “AMOS! From the church!” he started. I always feel guilty for swearing when I hear his voice. I imagine they have swear detectors and that after I hang up, AMOS calls everyone else in church and tells them what I said. Today I listened.
“Years ago we implemented AMOS for prayer requests. The church has decided to do a survey to see if we will continue this service.” My ears perked up.
“If you would like to continue getting calls from AMOS, please push one on your number pad.”
There was an extremely long pause. I could hear AMOS tapping his fingers.
“If you would like to DISCONTINUE getting calls from AMOS, please (sniff – sniff) press (deep sigh) two on your number pad.”
I pressed two.
I’m sure everyone will hear about it.