An Open Letter to the SBA's Hold Music

Dear SBA Hold Music,

We need to talk. I've spent more time with you than I have with most of my family members. At this point, you're less of a song and more of a recurring nightmare set to a smooth jazz beat.

I know every note. Every pause. Every moment where you loop back to the beginning like some sort of audio Groundhog Day. I hear you in my dreams. I hum you unconsciously while making coffee. My therapist says I have "hold music induced PTSD," and honestly? She's not wrong.

Some Questions I Have For You

Question 1: Who composed you? Was it a human being, or was it algorithmically generated by a computer that hates small business owners? Because the level of soul-crushing monotony suggests the latter.

Question 2: Why do you occasionally cut out, giving me hope that a human is about to answer, only to resume even louder than before? Is that a feature or a bug? Either way, it's psychological warfare.

Question 3: Are you aware that you've become the soundtrack to financial ruin? People have lost their businesses while listening to you. Marriages have ended. Dreams have died. And you just keep playing, oblivious to the carnage.

A Modest Proposal

I'd like to suggest some alternative hold music options that would more accurately reflect the SBA experience:

â€Ãƒ‚¢ The sound of a paper shredder eating important documents

â€Ãƒ‚¢ A loop of someone saying "your call is important to us" in increasingly sarcastic tones

â€Ãƒ‚¢ The Jaws theme, but slower

â€Ãƒ‚¢ Just straight up crying

â€Ãƒ‚¢ A voiceover explaining exactly how much money the SBA lost to fraud while you wait

In conclusion, SBA Hold Music, I hate you. But I also can't quit you, because the only alternative is hanging up, and then I'd have to start the whole process over again. You win. You always win.

Sincerely,
Everyone Who's Ever Called the SBA