Celebrating Mother's Day by cursing the mother of a recorded voice from my insurance company

The last 15 minutes of my life:

Annoying recorded voice that sounds like a creepy psycho killer: Hello. Wel---come to (insurance company). Press one if you are a health care provider. Press two if you are a customer.

Erin: Presses two.

Psycho: Press one for claims. Press two to speak to a nurse. Press three for questions regarding your benefits. Press four for all others, or to enroll in the maternity care program.

Erin: Uh ... Presses three.

Psycho: Enter your customer care code, followed by the pound key.

Erin: OK.

Psycho: Enter your eight digit date of birth, followed by the pound key -- that's month-month, date-date, year year year year. Pound.

Erin: If I could bottle your voice, I'd sell it on Halloween.

Psycho: Here are the benefits: (Reads off something that'd be helpful if maybe I were looking for Most Useless Information That I Already Know). To return to the main menu, press star.

Erin: Star key.

Psycho: Hello. Wel---come to ...

Erin: ARGGGGG. Presses four.

Psycho: Please enter your customer care number followed by the pound key.

And this went on for 10 minutes. To change your address, to request a booklet, to speak to a nurse about your condition, to, to, to, to, to do nothing that'd be helpful to you in any way, to give you absolutely no help and never the chance to talk to a real, live person, to never give you an alternative number, to, to, to.

Only about eight things in the world can make me this irrationally angry. Doing math. Closed-minded people. That wood carver guy on PBS. Banging my shins into something metal. You know, painful things.

I need it to be next week.