January 2011

Big Bell, would you please come back

By Rick Smith

rants@vcmail.net 

Wow, was that a trip down memory lane. But then again I'm feeling rather nostalgic these last few days. I have to admit for effect you should put that song on by Player from 1978 for the full effect of this rant. For those of you, mainly Toby, who don't have a clue about popular music, Player was a One-Hit-Wonder band from the '70s with a Darryl Hall & John Oats style of music. "Baby Come Back" was their only hit song.

I must admit it's extremely appropriate for how I feel these last couple of weeks waiting for my Baby Bell phone company to get my phone service up and running. Ah, I just sit by my window pining away the hours dreaming of the great phone service I used to get from Ma Bell back in the day while I wait endlessly for the repair truck to show up on my street. But as usual I'm getting ahead of myself so I think it's best I start from the beginning.

It was the week before Christmas and as I was driving around the corner to return to my home, I noticed the sign "Drought declared, no watering between 9:00 a.m. and 6:00 p.m." I decided to call my home and discuss with my wife the absurdity of this sign still being in place when I first noticed my home service had a problem. The line would ring once "which was heard in the home" followed by horrible sounding static. I quickly verified the problem with another call with similar results. I informed my spouse I would call the phone company on the morrow. The following day I proceeded to look up the service repair number of AT&T, my local phone service provider on their website. It took me a long time to locate that number and I'm pretty good at such things. As I cheerfully dialed the number, I mused as to the reason it was so hard to find, with the only reason I could come up with was they REALLY did not want me to call.

I waited through the barrage of phone prompts to get to the repair service queue. I think the phone company invented this terrible device and they have perfected it to degree only to be appreciated by torturers of the Middle Ages and certain CIA agents. Forget waterboarding, how about endless hours navigating phone trees? That's what I call torture! I patiently waited after receiving the customary "We're experiencing higher than normal call volume, please be patient." One again determined to prove to myself and our office staff that, yes, I'm a patient man I waited. After nearly a half hour on hold I had to go an appointment and my partner, Toby, volunteered to continue my sojourn of patience.

Eventually someone answered, and when I returned Toby said they had a known problem in the area and would send someone out. I cheerfully asked when I should expect them, today or tomorrow. HA, HA, HA, I am the king of naivety. Toby smiled and said sometime before Jan. 5. What? How could that be? Toby in his infinitely patient way explained that since cell phones, Internet communications and VOIP services have become so widely used phone companies just aren't so important any more. Yes, they have control over the wires, but that's just about it anymore. And since constant up-time is not a priority, they have cut their once vaunted repair staff to a fraction of what it once was. Yes, they are adequately staffed for summer when the weather is nice and problems are fewer, but during bad weather they just don't have the staff to keep up with service demands. So we wait.

Upon arriving home that day my neighbor asked me if my phone was working because they had also placed a service call recently with similar frustration. My neighbor had the personal number of a local lineman who serviced our area and in the past was able to expedite service calls. When he called his number this time he got a recording that all service calls must be routed through, you guessed it, the tortuous company voice mail tree. I guess he intervened one too many times for us common folk and got his wrist slapped for working out of queue. My neighbor then explained as he pointed to a big square box hanging from the line: "That's our problem, right there. The lineman was up there last year and when he opened the box it was full of acorns falling all over the street as he cleaned it out."

It seems in an effort to save money AT&T stopped using the nice stainless steel boxes in favor of plastic. Unfortunately for us, we have had a few families of woodpeckers nesting in my backyard for a few years and they have poked holes in the box and stuffed it with acorns. When it rains, the acorns swell up as they begin to sprout and everything goes wonky in the box. Oh, well, some vice president probably got a bonus for his great money-saving idea. A few days go by and a recorded message calls our office and says my problem has been resolved. We immediately called my number with the same horrible static noise. So much for the automated repair service. Just as I was about to despair, none other than our good customer and friend "BOB D" walked in the door. My heart quickened! Bob was a longtime PACBELL employee and still works at the company. Surely he could help! As I played my tired tune of despair he sympathized and put his arm around me and told me he, too, had to wait three weeks for service.

I was running out of options. Now mind you my Internet service was still functioning but at a reduced rate, which was causing no end of nagging from my wife trying to keep her social life going through Facebook. Determined to be the man of the house, I called the phone company and actually got a real person on New Year's Eve to relay the message that my phone was still not fixed and I told her all about the woodpeckers. At least she was sympathetic but replied someone would be here by Jan. 5. I finally resorted to asking for divine influence in the matter and the only answer I got was "why didn't you call on me first." Such is my Christian walk. As of this penning, I have no local phone service. This holiday was very quiet with nary a bother from relatives calling to wish us Merry Christmas.

I find myself thinking about the good ol' days when our nationwide phone service was the finest network in the world and working for the phone company was a sought after and respected job. But we busted up Ma Bell, gave her a black eye and gave the job of managing our nation's phone service to her children. I sit here listening to Ace's 1975 hit "How Long Has This Been Going On?" and wipe a tear from my eye as yet another pillar of American greatness falls into the sands of time and I reminisce about the way things were.