When choking isn't the answer

I hate talking to machines. I also hate having to talk to 7 different machines, followed by 7 different human beings to figure out my insurance woes. And then not figuring them out. I'm going to die; if not old and alone, then probably by some absurd accident, the effects of which I won't be able to counter through a probably simple, yet insanely costly medical procedure, since I can't seem to get a hold of anyone who can help me figure out this insurance mess or, furthermore, gives a shit.

The thing about those machines that really gets me, is when they ask me a question with a yes or no answer. Then I say 'yes,' because I indeed do desire to talk to a real live human being, even if they are in Mumbai. And, of course, in that obnoxious androgynous mechanical voice, the machine says "I'm sorry, I didn't get that," and then repeats the question. How did that machine not understand "yes?" I mean, it was created with 2 simple functions; to ask me that question, followed by understanding either "yes" or "no." Which both sound pretty different. It isn't like "yes," or "bless."
"I'm sorry, I didn't get that. Did you want to 'yes,' or 'bless?'
"Bless! Bless dammit!"
"I'm sorry I..."

And then you feel like a phenomenal jackass, yelling yes or no into the phone 12 times. Even upon observing the sympathetic looks of everyone in the immediate vicinity that knows exactly why you are yelling a one syllable word at your phone over and over, you still want to either choke a baby machine, (not a baby making machine, but rather an infant machine) or the poor Indian that will eventually pick up from across 2 oceans.

But I wouldn't even dare choke that damn machine. Why? Because if I were to injure my hands attempting to wring its durable, metallic neck, I have no insurance to fix them. And if I can't afford insurance on my own, I certainly can't afford the plane ticket across oceans to choke an Indian.

So I guess choking is out of the picture.