Progress

“Mr. Karpes”, the voice on the other end of the phone line queries.

“That’s me”, I reply in my best grump, after all it is only eight-thirty in the morning.

“This is Miss Jones of the Merchant bank calling. We’re conducting an efficiency survey with some of our clients and you have been selected to participate. May I ask you some questions?”

“No!”

There is a bewildered silence at the other end that goes on for 20 seconds or more as Ms. Jones tries to think of a suitable response. She inhales deeply and is about to continue the conversation.

“I don’t do surveys”, I say, and punch the off button on my handset.

“Tit for tat” I mutter under my breath. Have you tried calling your banker recently? The guy or gal that was so anxious to open your account, sell you some RRSP’s, provide a bank card, a credit card and all the service charges that come with this outstanding service package? Dial the listed telephone number and the all too familiar mechanical voice comes on.

“For service in English press one.”

“If you know the extension of the person to whom you wish to speak, please dial it now.”

“If you don’t know the extension number, please select from the following 7 options. Please note that there has been recent changes made in our menu of selections.”

You impatiently listen to the seven selections, none of which address your specific concern. After the second round of the seven choices, you finally make up your mind to push the one that might give you what you want. A further recording comes on.

“This is Ms Jones, I am either serving another client or am away from my desk at the moment. Please leave a message after the tone and I will get back to you as soon as possible.”

By this time the last thing you want to do is leave a pleasant message, your blood pressure has shot up a couple of points and the mood has been set for a bad day. You would like to leave a message all right but it would be unprintable so you simply hang up the phone.

I remember the days of the old radiophone, you know the one where a live and pleasant operator comes on and calls your number. A beep-beep-beep overrides your part of the conversation and everyone around the lake gets to listen to the incoming side. All of them of course ad-libbed the beep-beep portion of the call. It made for an interesting form of entertainment. After the beep-beep came the hit and miss cell phone and finally you where connected!

Lo and behold we’re just like the city folks that we left behind when we moved out here. There are of course certain benefits to being ‘connected’. Unfortunately all the irritants, the wrong numbers at one in the morning, the survey folks, and the sundry individuals that regularly want to tell you about the bumps and curves in their life come with the connection. During the past few years the recorded mechanical answering machine and endless selections have taken over from the pleasant greeting of a real live human being.

I recently read an advertisement in our local newspaper for a piece of electronic computer gear.

“You’ll be able to really communicate” was the header for the full-page ad and it continued on to extol the virtues of the bits and bites of the had-to-have gizmo. Quite the contrary, I thought. All of these electronic doodads and synthesized voices have robbed us of the ability to speak to one another and once in a while a live operator accompanied by the beep-beep would be much preferable to the menu options.