My Ebike Delivery Disappeared: My Attempt to Retrieve It Led Me into a Chatbot Nightmare.

A few months ago, my fiancée and I treated ourselves to a pair of ebikes. Residing in a particularly hilly area of Atlanta, which is a notably steep city, we had both recently received bonuses at work, making the nearly $2,000 per bike momentarily feel justifiable.

We ordered them online, and shortly after, my fiancée’s stunning, feature-packed bike arrived at our doorstep. Mine, ordered separately from a different retailer, faced delays—first one, then another, and yet another.

Finally, on a Wednesday evening, I received a text from FedEx indicating my bike had been delivered to our address and signed for. This seemed hard to believe, as I stood in my kitchen, bike-less and air-frying chicken thighs at that moment.

I stepped outside to check our apartment; my package was nowhere to be found. Consulting my order confirmation, I discovered that the bike had been signed for by someone with the mysterious initials “M.M.,” which didn’t match mine, my fiancée’s, or anyone else in our building. Whether it was stolen, misplaced, or delivered to the wrong address mattered less than finding a solution. I resolved to tackle this the next day by calling FedEx’s customer service for assistance.

What ensued was a monthslong journey through the depths of customer service frustration, during which I spent countless hours navigating virtual, chatbot-controlled waiting rooms—interacting with FedEx, the bicycle company, my bank, my credit card provider, and even my local police department—frantically seeking a real person who could address my $2,000 issue.

The New “Sludge”

Strangely, what happened to me feels increasingly commonplace. In recent years, many companies have eagerly adopted artificial intelligence in their customer service sectors, often at the expense of human staff.

According to a survey of customer service leaders published in April, 31 percent reported having reduced or planning to reduce their workforce due to AI integration. Most leaders indicated they are transitioning their human agents into new roles or adding extra responsibilities instead of simply laying them off.

However, some leaders have been more audacious. Verizon’s CEO Dan Schulman recently shared with Bloomberg that AI will likely replace a “large percentage” of customer service roles, highlighting it as one of the sectors most vulnerable to technological disruption.

For consumers like me, this shift has resulted in a less personal and more acute experience of frustrating wait times, elevator music, and non-answers that have plagued poor customer service for years. Furthermore, these systems are sometimes deliberately employed via a tactic known as “sludge,” aimed at dissuading customers from seeking resolutions.

Ryan Hamilton, a marketing professor and consumer psychology expert at Emory University, notes that AI has merely given sludge a fresh guise.

“Sludge existed before AI,” Hamilton explains. “But AI has, like many things, amplified its dystopian aspects.”

Whether arising from inherently poor experiences, intentional sludge, or a combination of the two, it’s apparent that shoppers are dissatisfied with AI-driven customer service. A May report featuring consumers from the US, UK, and Canada revealed that 59 percent expressed frustration with AI customer service agents, while 85 percent preferred engaging with a real person.

My Personal Chatbot Hell

Upon discovering my ebike was missing, nearly every phone call connected me to a chatbot, with FedEx’s AI system frequently ignoring my pleas to speak with a human representative.

Even reaching out to my local police department added to the impersonal experience. When I attempted to file a missing property report, I was asked to leave my details with a chatbot and wait for an officer to get back to me.