I’ve been on this Earth for just under 8 decades and I’ve learned to be patient. I’ve waited in bread lines, jury rooms, and the DMV in July with no air conditioning. But nothing — nothing — tests my spirit like being on hold with a government agency or mega-corporation.

I’m talking about the loop. The dreaded loop. You know the one: you’re on hold, some fuzzy instrumental music starts playing, and just as your brain begins to accept it — BAM! a robotic voice cuts in like an over-caffeinated traffic cop to remind you:

“Your call is very important to us. Please stay on the line. A representative will be with you shortly.”

Oh really? Is it? Because nothing says “we value your time” like interrupting the music every 9seconds to lie to my face. And it’s always the same syrupy line — like they assume we’ve all got goldfish memory or a burning desire to be reassured by a disembodied phone ghost.

Now, I don’t mind a little music. In fact, sometimes it’s not bad. Once I even got a nice smooth jazz sax solo that almost made me forget I was calling to dispute a $37 mystery charge from a company I don’t even remember joining. But I couldn’t enjoy it, because every few notes, that same voice popped back in — robotic, insincere, and louder than the music — like some glitchy therapist who just learned the phrase “I hear you” but not how to mean it.

And don’t get me started on the music itself. Most of the time, it sounds like it was composed by a toaster. I’m stuck listening to the same four bars of “corporate calming tune #73” played on an electric xylophone, cut off repeatedly by that condescending voice, and then the music starts again from the beginning. Who programmed this torture loop? Kafka?

Here’s a modest proposal from someone who’s spent more than a few hours in the trenches of phone hold warfare: give us a choice.

Option 1: uninterrupted music. Let me zone out to a mellow clarinet solo or even some light country twang. Don’t restart it every time you feel the urge to remind me I’m waiting. I know I’m waiting. I’ve been waiting so long I’ve gone through lunch, a snack, and half a crossword puzzle.

Option 2: no music — just regular, honest updates. None of this “we value you” fluff. Tell me what’s going on. “You’re number 47 in line. Estimated wait time: longer than your last relationship.” Fine. I can work with that.

Better yet, be straight with me: “We’re short-staffed. Jeff took an early lunch, and Brenda’s on vacation.” That kind of truth would go a long way.

I’d even settle for a choose-your-own-hold-adventure:

“Press 1 for elevator jazz, 2 for nature sounds, 3 for awkward silence, or 4 to hear a loop of someone actually screaming into a pillow — just like you want to.”

Look, we all know phone systems are overloaded, and yes, things take time. But when you’re older, in pain, trying to get help with housing, medicine, or figuring out why your co-pay jumped from $10 to $412, being trapped in a phone purgatory with Muzak and lies just adds insult to injury.

So, to all the agencies, hotlines, and “customer care teams” out there: if you can’t answer right away, fine. But don’t make the wait worse. Pick a lane. Music or announcements — but not both every 9 seconds.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go ice my ear.