One
of the greatest machines to all mankind that has ever been invented is the
telephone answering machine or it’s modern day equivalent, voice mail. One of
the worst machines to all mankind that has ever been invented is the telephone
answering machine or it’s modern day equivalent, voice mail. I suppose it’s
all in how you look at it isn’t it?
I think I do this subject at least once a
year, whether I like it or not. In reviewing my past columns, it seems that I am
always critical of the things, so I guess you’d say I don’t like them very
much. In fact, maybe not at all. First off, let me suggest to you that I am not
a phone person. If you look over my phone bill, whether it’s long distance or
for my cellular calls, you’d see that the majority of these are about one
minute each. I can’t ever remember any telephone conversation I’ve ever had
in my entire life that lasted over 10 minutes. I just don’t talk a lot on the
phone.
I like to see people when I’m discussing
things with them. Especially if it’s business. I think you need to see the
person you’re talking with in order to see how they react to whatever you have
to say and they need to see you for the same reason. Call me old-fashioned but I
think business is done better this way. But, nevertheless, time and tide wait
for no man and it was more or less inevitable that some computerized machine
would come to us to replace a real live human at the other end of the telephone
wire, cable, microwave tower or whatever.
In all honesty, I really don’t object to
using the things most of the time. What I do object to is when the person that
I’m calling (is this the callee?) has an introduction message that’s longer
than what I’m calling to say. You know how this goes. For example, you call
someone to tell them you need to discuss the price on a new widget. The person
you’re calling has a voice mail message that sounds like this…" Hi,
this is Bill Jones (not his real name, so you can’t sue me…). This is Monday
(or whatever day of the week) I’m either away from my desk or on the phone or
helping some other customer like yourself at this time. I can’t speak with you
at the present time, but your call is very important to me. If you need
assistance right away, you may dial 222 (not a real extension, so you can’t
sue me) and ask for Melissa (not a real person, so you can’t sue me here
either), who is my personal assistant. If you want to leave a message, do so at
the sound of the tone and I’ll get back to you just as soon as I am able.
Once, again, thanks for your call and have a nice day." Now, you have to
listen to all of this while you’re hung up in voice mail hell while waiting to
get to the little beep that signals it’s time to leave your message. Which in
my case consists of…"Bill, Peary, call me."
What’s even worse are the new family voice
mails at your neighbor’s homes. You call the neighbor down the street to tell
him about something to do with the deed restrictions and what do you get?
"You’ve reached the home of Jane and Bill Jones (not their real names,
again) and all of the little Jones’s. If you want Bill press one, If you want
to leave a message for Jane, press two, If this is for Jennifer, press three, if
you need to speak to Jason, press four…." and so on and sop on. If they
have 5 or 6 kids, it may take you 10 minutes just to get the beep part, at which
time you’ve forgotten why you called in the first place. So, you sound like an
idiot, because you’ve dozed off to sleep waiting for the infernal beep noise,
and when it comes, you wipe the drool out of your mouth and say something
like…."Phil, uh, Bill …this is…..(You are struggling to remember your
name, making you look goofier than you really are) …this is Peary, you need to
call me about (here again you falter since you can’t for the life of you think
what you wanted to talk to him about) …about…..Well, I can’t remember, but
I do need to speak to you."
Of course, when Phil, uh, Bill hears this he
thinks you’re either mentally defective or have been at the cooking sherry
again. The length of this column prevents me from going into great detail about
corporate or bureaucratic voice mail hell. But, believe me, it exists. Just try
to speak to a real human at one of the Fortune 500 companies or worst of all, to
a bank. Not going to happen in our lifetime. By the time you get through the
voicemail menu, and into the fourth or fifth level down, you have forgotten what
you called for or don’t have your account number handy, which sends you back
to the top of the list, where you have to start all over again. Or worse, you
pick the wrong option. You wanted account balance information, and you choose
option number two, which is NEW account information. These are the kinds of
voicemail programs that tell you that they’ll be with you in about five
minutes. Then you have to sit and listen to some obscure symphony from lower
Slobvia (not a real place, and if it is, I’m just using it for an example, so
you can’t sue me) play a lively version of "Yesterday" for nearly
twelve minutes. You are beginning to think to yourself that you can’t wait any
longer on this phone, since you have to go to the bathroom and your soup is
about to boil over, which is when they come on the line and say…
"This is Jane Jones (not her real name),
could I have your account number please?" Which makes me wonder why you had
to punch it in at the beginning, along with your social security number and your
Mothers maiden name. What happened to that stuff? Obviously Ms. Jones can’t
help you, but you can call our other toll free number, select option number
seven, and then someone there can help you…" Sure, maybe this time
tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ll have to spend two hours cleaning the stove
where the soup turned to carbon. I think writing a letter is much more sensible.
Don’t call me, I’ll call you. Send e-mails to me at
