Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: TUESDAY, January 14, 1992 TAG: 9201140333
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A6 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: By WILLIAM T. SAMPSON
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
DISCONNECTED LINES AND TIGERS
AT OUR house everybody pitches in to get things done. For a while we even let the dog and cat answer the telephone when we were away. The dog, a Rhodes Collar student at obedience school, was quite good at discouraging unsolicited sales pitches, but the cat, whose vocabulary is actually better than the dog's, tends to get excited and revert to his native Siamese. So we were especially pleased when we won the office raffle and learned that the prize was a telephone-answering machine.The only problem was figuring out how to hook it up. Some of the instructions that come with foreign-made products look like the preflight check list for a Mitsubishi medium bomber. But one thing was clear: Our wall phone would require a Surface Jack Replacement Cover, Model RJll-C, available at any AT&T Phone Center.
AT&T, you may recall, is the company that won custody of all those shiny, new Touchtone phones following the breakup of its marriage to Ma Belle, who apparently got to keep most of the hard cash and whose offspring seem to know where to get plenty more. I won't dwell on the distinction between AT&T and the "telephone company," because I don't really understand corporate affairs, much less corporate marriages or divorces.
At any rate, I decided to call the local Phone Center at Valley View Mall. After the mandatory four rings, that Ubiquitous Lady of the Long Lines cut in and said, "We're sorry. The number you have reached - 563-etc.-etc. - has been changed." Then, her voice brightened noticeably: "The new number is 1-800-etc.-etc." I hung up before she could add, "Please make a note of it."
The 800 number yielded a Sweet Young Thing named Germaine who wanted to know where I was calling from. In the background I could hear a steel band playing, the notes punctuated by the sounds of light machine-gun and heavy mortar fire. I informed the SYT that I was in Roanoke, Va. "Is that in the demilitarized zone?" she asked. I admitted I wasn't sure, then told her of my gnawing desire to posses a Model RJll-C Surface Jack Replacement Cover. "Oh, I'll have to give you another 800 number for that," she said.
This time I reached - surprise - another SYT named Sharmane who asked where I was calling from, then referred me to my nearest AT&T Phone Center. As I explained the merry-go-round implications of that suggestion, I could hear in the background (above the cries of sea gulls) the unmistakable shouts of sampan fishermen. Sharmane informed me her list showed Phone Centers in such places as Richmond, Norfolk, Annandale, Teasdale, Chippendale, Mondale and all the other fine Garrison Keillor shopping centers, but none at Valley View Mall. "Maybe it was closed for lack of business," she helpfully suggested.
That was impossible, I told her. There had to be one here. I tried to explain to her that in Virginia, Roanoke is the last great bastion of commerce east of the Hokies, but she wasn't listening. "Let me try the 563 number you gave me," she offered; then reported: "That number has been changed. The new number is 1-800-etc.-etc." I told her just how much I appreciated that all-too-familiar bit of information.
"For information," she cooed, " you must first dial a one, then the area code, then . . . ."
To make a long story less disgusting, I managed to jury-rig a workable wall adapter out of parts from a castoff rotary-dial phone, several pieces from an old Erector Set and some eggnog cartons left over from the holidays.
At last I was ready to record my OGM, which stands for Outgoing Message, the word "outgoing" apparently being a two-parter in the original translation, derived I suspect from "Ohayo gozaimasu!" (Good morning, in Japanese).
Actually, as another SYT in Yokahama once told me, most Japanese omit the gozaimasu, confining their comments to a hearty Ohayo! (This is not to be confused with a hearty Ohayo Silver! - which alludes to certain squatty, camera-carrying masked men who drive great white Subarus and have bought up most of the state of Ohio - partly because it sounds like "Good Morning," but mostly because it's within commuting distance of Fort Knox.)
But that's another story - I think. Anyway, the TAM works fine, and for starters we're using the dog's outgoing message.
But I couldn't help feeling sorry for Roanoke. Poor city, I kept thinking, caught up in another numbers game. First, the population miss-quota, now this. When are we going to come to our census and get back into the winning polls?
Then I realized that instead of feeling sorry, maybe I should be proud. Obviously, we Roanokers are pretty smart folks - smart enough to buy our telephone stuff at discount prices, instead of further filling the coffers of Ma Belle's heirs and assigns.
So I came up with a suggested OGM for the local chamber of commerce: "The city you have reached - R-O-A-N-O-K-E - has changed. It no longer has an AT&T Phone Center, but it does have a new skyline, a symphony orchestra, a Center in the Square, a real tiger with room to roam, beautiful mountains, a giant star, a lot of awfully nice people, and faith in its future. And best of all, you'll be welcome here anytime you call."
AUTHOR William T. Sampson , who lives in Roanoke, is an unpublished novelist and free-lance writer.