I am a theologian, and I can guarantee you that people who design complex automated telephone programs used by banks, insurance companies, governments, and many other bureaucracies will spend the first 10,00 years after their deaths trying to call a complicated automated 911 system while their pants are on fired. The same fate will befall the executives who mandate the use of these demonic artifices.
Today I had to call my insurance company. They had an elaborate robot-directed telephone maze in which I had to answer questions, give information, and state my problem. The automaton, of course, never understands. After two calls, I finally confused the robotic voice sufficiently to provoke a transfer to a real human being.
I spoke to a nice lady who promptly faxed the the form I needed, and all ended well. I said to her, "You know, of course, that all your customers hate the telephone maze they have to endure before they get to you." She replied, "Oh yes, we know!"
Later, I found some golden plates under a rock in my back yard on which there were words written in a strange language. I was able to translate the writing in a vision provoked by putting roasted peanuts in my Coke Zero. It was then and there that the eschatological consequence of designing and ordering the use of these satanic phone mazes was revealed to me. I merely pass the information on to you.