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There are days when I merely experience a mild displeasure with my job. And then there are days when I want to grab my job by its obnoxious little neck and fling it against a pile of cinder blocks. No kewpie dolls awarded for guessing which kind of day my Thursday was.
See, contrary to what Verizon would like to be happening, there are still quite a few pay phones out there. Seriously. Like, phones that accept spare change, at least when some room-temperture-IQ'ed cretin hasn't jammed the lower slot with a paper clip so he can come by later with a coat hanger to shake the accumulated coins out. And to operate these pay phones, we have this nifty, high falutin' computer system, which automatically calculates the cost of the call, and reports said findings to the caller in a friendly, Cloris Leachman-esque voice: "Please deposit 50¢," or what have you.
That, anyway, is what's supposed to happen. Unfortunately, the Real World being what it is, the system occasionally goes fooblitzky, and the recording doesn't come on. In that case, the call lands in our office, and it's up to me, in my George Gobel-with-a-head-cold-esque voice, to report the amount of the call, and connect said call when change has been deposited, assuming the caller doesn't decide to make rude comments about my mother's sexual proclivities. Sometimes, though, the system goes even more fooblitzky than that, and the rate for the call doesn't come up for me, either. In that case, the best I can do is ask the customer to redial, or use alternate billing. I can pretty much guarantee rude comments about my mother 50% of the time when it comes to this.
Today, the system went very, very fooblitzky. The system went fooblitzky the same way that Mount St. Helens fooblitzkied all over that half of Washington State back in '80. Which is to say, that high falutin' computer system went belly-up, completely and instantly. Which means that everyone in New York, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine and Rhode Island who tried using a pay phone ended up talking to us operators. And we. Could. Not. Accept. Their. Change.
Oh, yeah. This is so why I went to college.
Now, in all fairness, most customers were understanding, if not exactly pleased. Furthermore, management finally let us just say every call was 50¢, yippie skippie, here ya go, on your way. And they did get the Fustercluck 4000 Operating System up and running pretty quickly, all told. But given that the national phone grid is by and large held together with window putty and two favors from God, it's a wonder anyone ever talks to anyone else.
Enjoy your phones while they last, kids. And if you're planning on using a pay phone...well, don't. Trust me on this one.
See, contrary to what Verizon would like to be happening, there are still quite a few pay phones out there. Seriously. Like, phones that accept spare change, at least when some room-temperture-IQ'ed cretin hasn't jammed the lower slot with a paper clip so he can come by later with a coat hanger to shake the accumulated coins out. And to operate these pay phones, we have this nifty, high falutin' computer system, which automatically calculates the cost of the call, and reports said findings to the caller in a friendly, Cloris Leachman-esque voice: "Please deposit 50¢," or what have you.
That, anyway, is what's supposed to happen. Unfortunately, the Real World being what it is, the system occasionally goes fooblitzky, and the recording doesn't come on. In that case, the call lands in our office, and it's up to me, in my George Gobel-with-a-head-cold-esque voice, to report the amount of the call, and connect said call when change has been deposited, assuming the caller doesn't decide to make rude comments about my mother's sexual proclivities. Sometimes, though, the system goes even more fooblitzky than that, and the rate for the call doesn't come up for me, either. In that case, the best I can do is ask the customer to redial, or use alternate billing. I can pretty much guarantee rude comments about my mother 50% of the time when it comes to this.
Today, the system went very, very fooblitzky. The system went fooblitzky the same way that Mount St. Helens fooblitzkied all over that half of Washington State back in '80. Which is to say, that high falutin' computer system went belly-up, completely and instantly. Which means that everyone in New York, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine and Rhode Island who tried using a pay phone ended up talking to us operators. And we. Could. Not. Accept. Their. Change.
Oh, yeah. This is so why I went to college.
Now, in all fairness, most customers were understanding, if not exactly pleased. Furthermore, management finally let us just say every call was 50¢, yippie skippie, here ya go, on your way. And they did get the Fustercluck 4000 Operating System up and running pretty quickly, all told. But given that the national phone grid is by and large held together with window putty and two favors from God, it's a wonder anyone ever talks to anyone else.
Enjoy your phones while they last, kids. And if you're planning on using a pay phone...well, don't. Trust me on this one.
