After the demise of Dr. ChatBot, I got this momentary taste of peace. I’m sure we all did — the prospect of one less email in your inbox to have to unceremoniously delete, and never having to see the diversity randomizer of the Doctors ChatBot looming over a web survey ever again? Imagine a bolt of pure heroin straight up your spine, and then remember that you’re too much of a wuss to actually do heroin but you saw that one “Euphoria” scene, so you basically know what that is, right? The potential of freedom from the cold, unwavering stare of those graphically-designed hellspawn? Come ON. What could be better than that?
But then it happened again.
The funny, quirky little thing about automated emails is that unless someone hits the pretty little button to stop them from running, they will run. And run they will, through your head, rent-fucking-free.
Why the FUCK are there more ChatBot emails in my inbox, huh? UHS is literally and figuratively up my ass on the daily (they say it’s for “health concerns”), and the additional midday spam makes my blood boil. They haunt my every waking hour. I feel my blood pressure rise with every notification.
The amount of times I see an email from UHS saying something about “hey girly, puh-leazeeeee fill out the Now Obsolete, May I Remind You? Dr. ChatBot” and the amount of times I think about garroting an unsuspecting passerby out of sheer infuriation have both skyrocketed after realizing these emails are still coming in.
Can’t this be laid to rest already? I implore you, O’ Tumultuous One who seeks to plague me with endless useless fodder, You who forces me to slog through Your shit, to just let me be free. You dug your grave, now lie in it. I’m ready for my Buffy the ChatBot Slayer arc.
I will say though, when it’s all finally over, I will miss the Doctor ChatBot with the ponytail. She deserved better.
