THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Tuesday, May 23, 1995 TAG: 9505230364
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: GUY FRIDDELL
LENGTH: Medium: 59 lines
I'm about automated out.
To learn a telephone number from directory assistance for even a local call has become a challenge of late.
Why, listen, there was a day when all you had to do was pick up the telephone - it stood on a stem about 2 feet tall and had a mouthpiece to holler in and a receiver on a cord to hold to your ear - and when you took the receiver off the hook, the operator (known as ``central'') came on the line.
If you had the number you wished to call, you gave it to her, and if you didn't have it, she found it. By herself.
The procedure was summed up in a popular song, ``Hello, Central, Give Me Heaven.''
It was that simple.
User friendly, as they say today.
Often, you passed the time of day with the operator, Myrt.
Indelible in my mind is our home number - this was 65 years ago, mind you, ye gods! - my father's office number, and one for the girl five houses down the street, Margie, who was hardly ever at home.
A month or so ago, I dialed information, 411, to get a telephone number and, to my astonishment, a voice recording sounded in my ear: ``This is directory assistance. For what city please?''
``Norfolk,'' I said.
``Thank you. For what listing please?''
Rattled, I hung up.
And tried again. And this time gave the name of the person I wished to talk with.
And got the number from a real voice.
After a couple of days I asked an operator how any savings were realized since she had to get on the phone, anyway. She said she didn't know but she was sure there were some or Bell Atlantic wouldn't be doing it.
Ordinarily, I don't thank a recording - to do so seems fatuous, somehow - but if the live operator is listening or reading your response off a screen or something, a dignified ``thank you'' might be in order. So I began thanking the confounded recording like an utter fool.
Sometimes, when asked about the listing, I draw a blank, as used to happen in the second grade when Miss Eubanks questioned me.
By the time the recording asks for the listing, I have only just thought of the city, and, getting that response, the recording cuts off and a real operator comes to the rescue.
Just now, pausing in the composing of this column, I went through the rigamarole on the phone and when the live operator gave me the telephone number, I asked her how she had known my request.
She was listening to my answers to the recording, she said.
``Then what good does it do for you to be listening to a recording when you could hear it directly from me?'' I asked.
``It cuts out conversations like this,'' she said, laughing.
Myrt would never have said that. by CNB