My Journey with “Crygasm” – A Real Account
Alright, so someone threw this word at me the other day – “crygasm.” And it got me thinking, not about anything weird, but about this one particular ordeal I went through. It was a whole process, a real practice in patience, or maybe insanity, and the end? Yeah, maybe that word fits.
It all started with this fancy new gadget I bought. Supposed to be top of the line, make my life easier, you know the drill. Paid good money for it. And what happens? A week in, it just dies. Stone dead. So, I thought, no biggie, warranty, right? That’s when my “practice” truly began.
First, I tried the website. Navigated through about a dozen menus, each one leading to a FAQ that didn’t answer my question. Found a support form, filled it all out, meticulously described the issue, attached my proof of purchase. Clicked submit. Got an automated reply: “We’ll get back to you in 3-5 business days.” Okay, I can wait.
A week later, nothing. So, I decided to call them. That was an adventure in itself. Listened to that awful hold music for what felt like an eternity. Finally, got a human. Explained everything. They asked me all the same questions I’d filled out on the form. Then, they told me I needed to talk to a different department. Transferred. More hold music.
This went on for days, which turned into weeks. I kept a log:
- Called them 17 times.
- Spoke to 9 different “customer service representatives.”
- Was disconnected 4 times mid-conversation.
- Resent my documents 3 times because they “couldn’t find them.”
I was getting nowhere. I started feeling that deep, burning frustration. You know, the kind that makes you want to throw things. I was explaining the same problem over and over, providing the same information, getting the same scripted, unhelpful responses. I even tried their social media support. Got a chirpy “We’re sorry you’re experiencing issues! DM us!” followed by… you guessed it, more requests for the same info I’d already given a dozen times.
The “practice” here was trying to stay calm, trying to be polite when all I wanted to do was scream. I documented everything. Took screenshots of chats, noted down times of calls, names of agents (when I could get them). I was building a case, though I wasn’t sure who I’d even present it to.
Then came the day. I was on the phone, yet again. Fourth call of that particular day. I’d been escalated to a “supervisor” who sounded about 12. I was explaining the whole saga for what felt like the hundredth time. And then, I just… stopped. Mid-sentence. There was this silence.
And then it happened. Not a shout, not anger, but this weird, shaky laugh just bubbled up out of me. It was so absurd. The whole situation. My effort. Their utter incompetence. I started laughing and I couldn’t stop, and then, yeah, tears started rolling down my face. I was laughing and crying at the same time, right there on the phone with this bewildered supervisor. It wasn’t sadness, it wasn’t even pure anger anymore. It was just… a release. A massive, overwhelming, slightly unhinged release. Maybe that’s the “crygasm” part. My own little emotional explosion after weeks of grinding pressure.
When I finally got myself together, I just said, very calmly, “You know what? Keep the damn thing. Or don’t. I’m done.” And I hung up. I didn’t get my refund, not then. But that moment, that weird breakdown-slash-breakthrough, it felt like I’d shed a massive weight. I’d practiced holding it in, practiced being “the good customer,” and it had all just imploded.
The funny thing? About a month later, a brand new gadget, the same model, just showed up at my door. No note, no explanation. Just there. I guess my little episode on the phone finally broke through some layer of their bureaucracy I hadn’t been able to breach with logic or persistence.
So yeah, that was my practice. My journey to whatever that feeling was. It taught me something about my own limits, and maybe about the ridiculousness of some systems we have to deal with. Sometimes, you just gotta let it all out, I guess. In whatever form that takes.
