DATE: Saturday, April 26, 1997              TAG: 9704260321

SECTION: LOCAL                   PAGE: B1   EDITION: NORTH CAROLINA 

TYPE: Column 

SOURCE: Anne Saita 

                                            LENGTH:   71 lines

TUNES ON THE TELEPHONE AREN'T MUSIC TO SOME PEOPLE'S EARS

The voice on the other end of the telephone line had a familiar ring. ``Please hold,'' a woman said in a polite, professional tone.

As has happened hundreds of times before, I was thrown into telephone purgatory, hoping my request and my reputation would eventually elevate me to a higher level.

Instead, I found myself temporarily placed in telephone hell. Filling the dead air time was aging rock 'n' roller Rod Stewart doing an old Carole King song. Doing it badly.

``So faaaar awaaaay . . . doesn't anybody staaay in one place annnymoooore

Finally someone picked up the phone.

``Currituck County Sheriff's Department.''

I'm not sure why, but something about listening to rock 'n' roll while waiting for the sheriff struck me as a little weird. Maybe it's the genre's rebellious roots. Maybe it's just me.

Maybe not.

``You know, we get more complaints from people about that music,'' Susan Johnson, the sheriff's spokeswoman, told me after I'd thanked her for rescuing me from Rod.

This week I decided to look into the county's phone system music a little more.

``Most ask us, `What is that wild, crazy music you're playing?' '' Johnson said. ``Some say, `If I had to listen to that another minute, I was gonna hang up.' ''

To be fair, the system's selection of music also has its admirers.

``Some of our younger people have called and said, `Hey, I like that!' '' Johnson said. ``But it's mostly those in their 20s that really enjoy the music. The older ones don't like it.''

The same soft rock music, or talk radio sometimes, is piped into every phone at the Currituck County Courthouse. Employees even have the option of listening to it at their desks.

It's released from a radio housed in a closet at the Department of Planning and Inspections on the first floor of the courthouse.

``I've had people tell me it's too loud. I've never had anybody tell me they didn't like the station,'' Currituck County Finance Director Dan Scanlon said.

Other departments also said they have had few, if any, complaints.

Scanlon also noted the benefits of any animated phone system - be it schmaltzy Muzak or prerecorded messages to help pass the time. Without the noise, callers can't be sure they're still in the system.

``Muzak, or any kind of repetitive sound, lets the person know they still are on hold,'' he said.

Muzak, made in Seattle, is no longer exclusively found in elevators, hotel lobbies and phone systems. It's becoming inescapable at supermarkets and discount department stores.

There are those, Muzak haters to be sure, convinced subliminal messages are contained within the bland background music transmitted by wire to the loudspeaker of a subscriber.

One researcher wrote on the Internet that the intentions of large corporations ``is to disguise stress, to control and direct human activity, to generate maximum productivity and minimum discontent.''

More than 80 million people a day hear Muzak, which also is served to 43 of the top 50 largest industrial companies in the United States, according to a business magazine report on the surge in audio ads woven into Muzak at retail outlets.

Music moves people; that's its goal. And Muzak, or rock 'n' roll or country or classical, will also move people. Only it may not be in a way businesses and agencies want.

There's a limit to how much callers can take. Just ask people who've picked up the phone after keeping a caller on hold for a long time.

They often will hear humming on the other end. And it isn't Muzak.

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