March 21, 2001

---

If you've read my recent columns, you must know by now how I feel about cell phones.

Let me state right off the bat that I've been a good boy and haven't publicly insulted any strangers in the last several weeks or gotten the crap kicked out of me for making an obscene gesture to some obnoxious or inconsiderate cell phone user.

My wife is proud of my restraint and has even been bragging to family and friends. I'm taking it one day at a time.

But I gotta tell ya pholks, it hasn't been easy. I could snap at any moment.

If that's not enough, I have been dealing with another matter which is also about to do me in. I'm talking about the phone systems which I must deal with every day at work and at home Every government agency, utility company, banking and financial institution, retail business or service provider has an automated telecommunications system. They supposedly save time, money and make things happen faster and more efficiently. That pholks is pure bull pucky with a capital PUCKY.

The only time saved is the four to eight seconds it would take a competent receptionist or "system's monitor" (formerly known as a switchboard operator) to answer and direct the call to the appropriate office or person. What, I want to know, about all the time I'm spending listening to some menu which does me no good. First I'm told to punch in a number to get a menu of departments. I don't know what department I need, but I play along. I pick a number in hopes of getting connected to a live voice. Wrong. I get another prompt telling me to punch in the first three or four letters of the last name of the person I'm trying to reach. How is a person supposed to punch in the letters of a name which I have no idea of? I've been on the line for six minutes and have gotten no where. I'm still in control, but getting close to the edge. I decide to punch the "0"' hoping to get "an operator. Wrong again.

Of course the whole message system repeats itself as I start to cuss. Next I pick a number just to get to someone. That someone tells me he or she is switching my call without listening to my stressed attempt to ask a question. After four of five rings I get a voice mail recording telling me "This is Josephine and I'm either on another line, in a meeting or away from my desk. Please leave your name and number and I'll call you back as soon as possible. Thank's for calling. Goodbye."

Of course I leave no message because I have no idea who Josephine is, what department she works in or whether she might be in a meeting with the person I don't know who might or might not have the information I need.

It is now eight minutes and thirty seconds (according to the digital readout timer on my phone) since I placed my first call.

I'm not a quitter. Perhaps I should be. I call again this time punching in numbers to avoid the long menu. I save two minutes doing this and smirk to myself. I get connected to Linda who nicely tells me she has no idea about the information I need or whom I should talk to but says "You need to talk to Josephine, she can help... Before I can tell Linda no, I hear "click" "ring" "ring".."This is Josephine and I'm either..."

I'm not a quitter. I am relentless. I'm pissed.

I dial again and quickly bypass the menus by punching in another number. This time I hear "That is an invalid number.." followed by a repeat of the original menu of options.

I'm not a quitter but I have other things to do right now. I need to call a national department store with a local outlets to see about getting my wife's sewing machine fixed. It is under warranty and the thingamabob isn't bobbing.

Without going into detail I will tell you that trying to find the store's fixit shop, which in most cases these days, is not connected to the major department store is practically impossible. Just getting connected to the local store takes several minutes with connections to someone in Houston, Texas, or Los Angeles or somewhere a long ways away. They have no idea what street the repair/parts facility is on and, in fact, have never heard of Visalia. Eventually I'm connected to the main Visalia store where someone named Tammy has no idea where the repair shop is. I'm put on hold for two minutes then told that the repair/parts shop is in Hanford. There is none in Visalia. This whole caper has taken 11 minutes. In that time my voice has traveled over 3,000 miles, been connected to three or four locations, been electronically transferred seven times and made contact with three human voices. This is time saving?

I'm sure many of you have endured some such experiences. But, if you have nothing better to do for a half hour or so and need to get your blood pressure and stress level elevated pick up your phone and try to talk with someone in the local branch office of a major bank.

If you have the secret "local number" stashed in your wallet, you can't play this game. If you get too upset and want to vent to someone call me--at the office. Our number is listed.

It will only take a few seconds.