I yell into the phone. “I hate you!” This is my fourth try today with AT&T’s torturous automated system. I’ve walked through this untold times in recent weeks. My mother’s phone keeps going out because of the rain, old cables they don’t plan to replace. Today, the delightful system keeps routing me to a customer service queue and then tells me they’re closed. After I hang up, I stomp down the hallway muttering. “You are so Lily Tomlin’s phone company,” I say, and a half-smile works its way up inside me.