How an IVR encounter ruined my day

I had a harrowing encounter with an automated IVR system that turned into every Deaf/Hard of Hearing person's worst nightmare while trying to contact the Pennsylvania Department of Revenue .

It all began when I dialed the PA DoR's helpline, hoping to get some much-needed tax inquiries addressed.

Little did I know that this seemingly innocuous call would plunge me into a heart-pounding ordeal. As the call connected, an interpreter I had never seen before appeared on my screen. This faceless intermediary was mandated by the FCC to facilitate communication, but there was no personal connection between us.

"Ready to call?" the interpreter asked, his voice carrying a pleasant tone. "Let's go!" I replied, trying to maintain a sense of optimism in the face of impending uncertainty.

The line rang, and as expected, the IVR system sprang to life. The automated voice listed the usual options, each accompanied by the interpreter's sign language translations. I pressed the designated number, hoping it would direct me to the appropriate department. But alas, my journey had only just begun.

Soon enough, I found myself confronted with an identity verification process. The robotic voice boomed, "Please enter your social security number." A glimmer of relief washed over me, thinking that this would be a discreet data entry exercise. After all, it was the State of Pennsylvania, an entity that should prioritize the safeguarding of personal information, right?

Carefully and discreetly, I entered my social security number, anticipating that it would be confirmed using additional data points. However, what unfolded next sent shivers down my spine. The automated voice, devoid of any tact or consideration for privacy, loudly echoed my social security number for all to hear.

My heart sank as I watched the interpreter, a stranger whose gaze had never met mine, sign my most closely guarded secret back to me. "Is that correct?" he asked innocently, oblivious to the devastating breach of security I had just endured. With a heavy heart, I reluctantly confirmed the accuracy, desperately attempting to maintain a composed demeanor.

"Please, let him forget that number," I silently pleaded. But my worst fears were realized when, within minutes, the IVR system once again confirmed my social security number, this time for the second round. The sinking feeling in my chest intensified.

Finally, the IVR transferred me to a representative from the Department of Revenue. They greeted me warmly, oblivious to the emotional wreckage I had experienced moments ago. Just as I began to regain my composure, the representative requested that I verify a few details, including, you guessed it, my social security number.

My heart sank further. I glanced at the unfamiliar interpreter, who had now been exposed to my social security number for the third time. Not only did he possess this highly sensitive information, but he also knew my date of birth and home address. Every fiber of my being felt exposed, vulnerable to the possibility of identity theft.

I couldn't help but think about the larger implications of this ordeal. Financial institutions, take heed. It's imperative to scrutinize your IVR systems and find discreet, secure methods to confirm identities. While Video Relay Services (VRS) may serve as a communication solution, it does not guarantee safety. Deaf and Hard of Hearing individuals like myself constantly face these vulnerabilities.

Will they compensate me for identity protection? Probably not. It seems unlikely, but the need for change is undeniable