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Ok, reaching back in time here. I know at some point, during my lurking around days, I saw posts from some Directory Assistance folks. It’s been a lot of years since I was an “information” operator. Let me say off the bat, why Ma Bell ever let that particular phrase be coined I will never understand. But that’s another rant all together. This one is about one particular type of call, one that still to this day makes me want to slap someone… hard… repeatedly. Any operators still out there, and want to tell me if this still happens on a regular daily basis? (I’d bet my lunch it does.)
A few basic facts about how the system worked, at least back then, and this was over 16 yrs ago. At that time the office I was in covered two Texas area codes, stretching from the most western point, up over the entire Panhandle, and down across the Basin and into the edge of the Hill Country. Plus we picked up a third just before I left. For the most of my time there we used a particular system that showed us which of the two area codes that the customer was calling from or if they were outside all together. But that was all, it didn’t tell us what city. That changed before I left, but for the longest time that was all we got shown on our screens. Hence, when you called us you were always asked “what city.”
This particular type of call happened daily, generally at least 3-4 times a day, and typically went something like this:
DD: stunning young operator (hey, I can dream) with a fantastic phone voice (that part is true)
IC: Idiot Customer, of all of shapes, sizes, orientation, it didn’t matter, crossed all boundaries
DD: SWB, this is Summer, what city please?
IC: Bumptphukt. (this is when they were cooperative at first, of course some people always had to act like you were stupid because you didn’t know where “here” was)
DD: Yes sir/mam, what listing?
IC: I need David Jones.
DD: (checking quickly) I’m sorry, in Bumptphukt, I don’t have a David Jones. There is Mark, Tony or Mary. Do you have an address?
IC: Naw, it’s over by Dairy Queen. Do you have Gary?
DD: Under Jones, sir/mam? I’m sorry, checking in Bumptphukt I only have Mark, Tony or Mary Jones. Do you know the street it would be on?
IC: How about Eric, do you have Eric?
DD: No, I’m sorry, checking the name Jones, J-O-N-E-S, in Bumptphukt, I ONLY have Mark, Tony or Mary.
::rinse, repeat, ad nauseam::
You could look around the office and tell when someone had one of these calls. Fingers clenched on the sides of monitors, as if we could somehow try to physically crawl through the lines and wrap our fingers around their throats and make them LISTEN and COMPREHEND the word ONLY.
After seven years, I left that job truly amazed that we have not blown up this planet, not because of hate or anger, but just because of stupidity.
A few basic facts about how the system worked, at least back then, and this was over 16 yrs ago. At that time the office I was in covered two Texas area codes, stretching from the most western point, up over the entire Panhandle, and down across the Basin and into the edge of the Hill Country. Plus we picked up a third just before I left. For the most of my time there we used a particular system that showed us which of the two area codes that the customer was calling from or if they were outside all together. But that was all, it didn’t tell us what city. That changed before I left, but for the longest time that was all we got shown on our screens. Hence, when you called us you were always asked “what city.”
This particular type of call happened daily, generally at least 3-4 times a day, and typically went something like this:
DD: stunning young operator (hey, I can dream) with a fantastic phone voice (that part is true)
IC: Idiot Customer, of all of shapes, sizes, orientation, it didn’t matter, crossed all boundaries
DD: SWB, this is Summer, what city please?
IC: Bumptphukt. (this is when they were cooperative at first, of course some people always had to act like you were stupid because you didn’t know where “here” was)
DD: Yes sir/mam, what listing?
IC: I need David Jones.
DD: (checking quickly) I’m sorry, in Bumptphukt, I don’t have a David Jones. There is Mark, Tony or Mary. Do you have an address?
IC: Naw, it’s over by Dairy Queen. Do you have Gary?
DD: Under Jones, sir/mam? I’m sorry, checking in Bumptphukt I only have Mark, Tony or Mary Jones. Do you know the street it would be on?
IC: How about Eric, do you have Eric?
DD: No, I’m sorry, checking the name Jones, J-O-N-E-S, in Bumptphukt, I ONLY have Mark, Tony or Mary.
::rinse, repeat, ad nauseam::
You could look around the office and tell when someone had one of these calls. Fingers clenched on the sides of monitors, as if we could somehow try to physically crawl through the lines and wrap our fingers around their throats and make them LISTEN and COMPREHEND the word ONLY.
After seven years, I left that job truly amazed that we have not blown up this planet, not because of hate or anger, but just because of stupidity.
Have a good day, sir.
*walks away*
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