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Show Ten O'Clock Whistle by David Fleisher Telephone operators are becoming more personal these days. They don't answer by saying "Operator;" some of them answer by giving their first names. This may be a new trend in personalizing the "Bell System," but I'm ambivalent about how it will work out in the end. When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I do is call the Operator to find out what time it is (my clock has been out of commission for months, and my watch needs fixing). When I dialed "O" the other day, I heard: "Linda, may I help you?" "Yeah, Linda, do you have the correct time?" "The time in our office is 7:26," she answered. "Thank you," I replied, and hung up. I then jumped in the shower and was right in the middle of getting dressed when all of a sudden I stopped everything, sat down and asked myself, "Who is Linda?" 1 didn't want to talk to Linda or Susan or Michelle or Barbara or Jane or anybody else over the telephone at that hour in the morning. I wanted to talk to the "Operator." And that's all. I didn't want to talk to a person who had a name at 7:26 in the morning. I'm sure Linda is probably a very nice person: she sounded friendly over the phone. She comes from a good family, I figured, lias a well-intentioned and hard-working husband as well as two lovely children. In the short period of time that I spoke with her, I even grew to admire her for a job well done. The way she said, "The time in our office is 7:26" was firm, yet polite. For some reason, I thought about Linda all day, wondering if she was an operator because she didn't want to do anything else with her life; or because she simply enjoyed talking over the telephone and had found the job rewarding and challenging. And then, my thinking became somewhat bizarre. What happens, I thought, if Linda calls me up one morning and asks ME what time it is? "Hello David, do you have the correct time? This is Linda." Early morning conversations have never been terrifically successful for me, especially ones that involve social interraction of any kind. My mind is focusing more on things like sinks, tubs and clothes. If this trend towards personalization continues, I imagine the following conversation: "Operator, do you have the correct time?" "My name, I'll have you know, is not Operator, it's Samantha. But my friends call me Sam." "What time is it, Samantha?" "What's your name?" "Never mind my name. I just want to know the time." "You're a little touchy this morning, aren't you? Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" "Listen, Operator, I have this appointment to go to and I just want to know the correct time." "If you call me Operator one more time, I'm going to call you up at five o'clock every morning for the rest of your life. My name is Samantha!" "Samantha, if you don't at least attempt to tell me the correct time. I'm going to report you to your superior." '"Don't be so mean, you grouch! It's 6:30." "Thank you. Operator." "You're welcome, nerd!" Maybe I'm just being pessimistic. I actually may learn to like talking to Linda, Michelle or Valerie in the morning over the telephone. But I'll tell you one thing. I never want to call the operator to find out what time it is and here, "Hi! this is Robert! Can I help you?" As I walk up Main Street, I hear the Ten O'Clock Whistle. |
