June 24, 2006
Modern day India call centers remind me of the “salad days” of my youth when telephone party lines were the up-to-the minute thing.
Back then, everyone was inexperienced with telephones, not just we green kids.
These days, most of us appear to be just as inexperienced in mastering the art of talking to call centers as we were with party lines.
If you need a part for your car, need to check on a student loan, ask about your credit card, bank account, cell phone, electric bill, welfare benefits, tax returns, website or computer, believe me you have probably talked to someone in India or some other call center in scores of other countries.
Both outsourced call centers and old-fashioned telephone party lines share certain similarities. Here are just a few: both are annoying, time-consuming, unfriendly, difficult, and require that we talk to irritating and maddening people on the other end of the line.
Nothing against any of these folks trying to make a living in these call centers, mind you, but we just happen to have a huge language barrier problem. What’s more, these call center operators do not appear to understand our culture very well.
Obviously, we have a predicament here.
Since telephone party lines were all we had when we Baby Boomers were growing up in the Midwest in the 1950’s and 60’s, it took awhile for young and old alike to “get the hang” of using them, but we did indeed figure them out soon enough.
Learn a code of long and short rings, and that was all there was to it. Dealing with the obstinate and stubborn folks “hogging” the party line was far more tricky and complex.
Today, it seems that we have to deal with very similar folks who just happen to be located all over the world, not just down the road.
These two facets of life in American history and culture share a host of similarities, but the most important similarity has to do with common courtesy and confidentiality.
No one was very concerned with confidentiality in the days of party lines because everyone knew everyone else’s business anyway. In the world we live in now, as you well know, we have to be very concerned with our confidentiality.
So can anyone blame us for not wanting to give our credit card information to someone who is trying to convince us that their names are Mary or Jim and that they know what the weather is like in Kansas City!
Recently, while trying to get help on a printer problem, I called the manufacturer and got, instead, Bangalore, India, the hub of worldwide call centers.
I asked, “Where are you?”
The operator replied, “I’m in Kansas.”
I said confidently, since I live near Kansas, “Oh, really. So what is the weather like there?”
After a moment of hesitation, “Jim” said it was cloudy and cool.
Likely story, I thought since it was 90 degrees outside with no chance of rain.
Enough already. I called my brother to vent.
Not impressed at all with my story, he told me his instead.
I am still incredulous.
Brother John explained that he, too, had called India and a host of other countries trying to get internet service restored after his account was closed by mistake. Apparently some other family terminated their own service, but instead the company inadvertently cancelled John’s. All he wanted was his account reactivated.
Perhaps, I should mention that John is relentless and does not quit.
Hours later after making calls to MSN and Qwest, John logged in a total of 39 calls: Canada, 3; India, 2; Philippines, 11; El Salvador, 7; Argentina, 11; Iowa, 4; and South Dakota, 1.
John joked that one of the operators in India probably “would not send him a Christmas card this year” because John’s “dark side of the force came out” during that call. After repeatedly asking to speak to a manager and getting nothing but a rote reply, John exploded.
He got his internet service back.
Do not despair. There is hope for the rest of us. Recently I read an article listing certain jobs that will become extinct in the next 10 years. India and other global call centers were high on the list. Apparently, U.S. companies are beginning to figure out that common courtesy, confidentiality, and customer service are more important than paying cheap wages.
I just long for the days when I could call my cousin Doris, the local telephone operator, and say, “Doris, would you call Sue for me?” I still remember my best friend Sue’s number, 77, after all these years.
From today’s vantage point, those bothersome party lines and the simplistic telephone service of old look innocent and innocuous, just a “fly in the ointment” after all.
Good thing we did not know what was ahead.
