Complex Phones

Ah technology, all of those marvelous gadgets and machines that increase your productivity and ease your burdens. They really do that to a great extent, but they also add a certain level of frustration. They force you to learn because they never work quite the way you think they work or should work. There is nothing personal about that. In fact, that is part of the problem. It does not do you any good to yell at them or kick them. They cannot be insulted, nor can they feel any emotional or physical pain. They do not adapt to you, you must adapt to them unless you understand them well enough to modify them. The more complex they are the least likely it is that you will be able to understand how they work well enough to make the desired modifications. Oddly enough, this is particularly true if you have an intimate knowledge of the tasks the machines are supposed to perform and how those tasks are normally done.

Max had been thinking quite a bit about that lately. It was an exciting time. Computers and programs had developed to the point where most people could now use them. There was a computer sitting on every desk in the office.  Secretaries quickly learned how to use word processing programs rather than type writers. The inter net was also beginning to live up to the hype. Attorneys could actually go on line and look up cases to see if the precedents they wanted to cite were still good or whether some appellate court had overturned or modified them. But hold on, it was not that simple. Databases and such posed a particular problem. To do anything in depth you had to know how to talk to the computer, and computers spoke a different language. Actually they spoke different languages. That is why the senior partners had young associates going on line to do the legal research, and it is why the partners hired experts to man the MIS department. Unlike the computers the young associates and the experts who were trying to get the computers to do what the partners wanted could feel emotional pain. They could be insulted! This re-established the emotional link between the partners and the tasks, and there is something about human nature that makes that link important.

The problem in this instance was not the computers; it was the new phone system. Phones have always been simple devices. When a phone rings you pick up the receiver and speak into it. When you want to contact someone you pick up the receiver, dial that person’s number, and talk to the person who answers. Now a whole new level of complexity had been added. If you read the literature that came with this system, you would think that it did everything but wipe your nose for you. It allowed you to record a message that played when someone called you. It took messages from the people who called you, and it played those messages for you when you wanted to hear them. It had speed dials that allowed you to ring other people in the office or out of the office with the single press of the button programmed to dial that number. It also allowed you to make conference calls and to transfer calls to other people. The technicians included a prerecorded voice to guide you through the process of programming your phone to do all those things. They even tried to personalize that voice by naming it Phoebe Phone Mail.

The phone people entered Max’s office and plugged in his new phone. They then placed a large instruction manual on his desk.

“Don’t be intimidated by the size of the manual,” one of the men said. “It’s really quite simple to program. All you need to read are the first few pages to get you started. Phoebe will guide you through the rest of the process.”

Max knew better. It all came down to the fact that nothing ever works quite the way you think it works or the way you think it should work. Programming the phone was going to take some time, and he had other work to do. He decided to put off programming the phone until after lunch. He was returning from lunch when he heard Allison.

“Phoebe, you bitch! That’s not what I wanted.”

Max laughed. “There’s nothing like the personal touch of the human voice,” he thought.  He continued walking.

“No,” Jim shouted. “How many times are you going to make me press that key, you useless slut?”

Max did not know whose voice he heard next, but it was certainly emphatic. “You want to know what I want to do now? I’ll tell you what I want to do. I want to shove this phone up your…”

Max rounded the corner into the hallway where his office was located. It was a good thing the phone people did not add a picture to go with the calm, clinical voice of Phoebe or people would be spitting on it. The door of the partner’s office opened. The partner stepped out with a look of pure frustration on his face. Max hurried. He wanted to get there in time to hear what the partner was going to say to his secretary, Gail.

“I don’t want to record a message telling people how bitchin I am and how much I regret not being there to take their calls. That’s why I have you. That’s what you’re supposed to do. And I don’t want some son of a bitch on the other side leaving messages on my phone. If he has to give you the message, I can always claim I didn’t get it.”

“So you want all your calls forwarded to me.”

“Of course I do.”

“I’m afraid it’s going to take me a while to learn how to do that.”

“That’s the problem,” Max said. “The entire firm is fighting with the phones rather than working on their cases.”

“What would you suggest?” the partner asked.

“We need someone to program them for us.”

“Who?”

“How about MIS? They’re good at programming things.”

Gail must have heard some of the comments Max had heard because she added: “And they’ve been taught to say ‘Okay’ rather than ‘God damn it!’ or ‘You rotten bitch!’”

The partner laughed. “Gail, call MIS and tell them to get someone down here now.”

Later that afternoon a very pleasant young lady from MIS entered Max’s office. She asked him how he wanted the features programmed and quickly completed the task.

“I’m impressed,” Max said. “I can’t believe how fast you did that.”

“I guess its now part of my job.”

Max decided to test the phone by speed dialing his boss. He was surprised when Gail answered.

“Hi Max.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“It identifies the extension.”

“You mean he even has the internal calls forwarded to you?”

“You know how he hates being interrupted.”

“Oh, well if he’s busy.”

“No, you’re okay. Hold on, I’ll transfer you.”

There was a click, followed be a ring. A moment later his boss picked up. “Yes, Max.”

“I just wanted to tell you that the young lady from MIS did a terrific job on my phone.”

“Well, it takes a woman. They’re used to conversing with people whose whole vocabulary consists of mamma, dada, and googoo.”

Max laughed. “A lot of people would say we should add doodoo to the list.”

“Probably, but I think the phone will work well for the people who want to use all its features.”

“Once they learn how to use them.”

“Yes,” the partner agreed.

With that they both hung up. Max leaned back in his chair and smiled. A little procrastination can be beneficial at times. It certainly saved him the aggravation of having to program his phone.

First published in macsbackporch. foxtail-farms.com on Feb 10, 2010