Metro Pulse/Insights/Kafkaesque Telephone Service

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by Joe Sullivan

It all started about two weeks ago when I called my son who lives in the San Francisco Bay area. Instead of getting through, as I have hundreds of times before, I get a recorded message saying, "A long distance access code is required to dial this number, please enter your long distance access code."

Since I don't know what a long distance access code is, let alone have one, I am perplexed. Could my son have possibly made some arrangement to screen his calls, I wonder. So I try calling him on his cell phone and get exactly the same result. In an attempt to see if the problem is at my end, I call my other son who lives in Los Angeles and get through to him just fine. I also place a call to Nashville. Same result.

At this point, I call the operator for assistance and am referred to an 800 number for BellSouth customer service. After being left on hold for what seems like half an hour of recorded messages, a human voice to whom I describe my problem comes on the line. The woman's voice informs me it's not a BellSouth problem but rather a problem with my long distance carrier, which happens to be AT&T. I'm furnished an AT&T 800 number to call to seek a solution.

A human being actually answers my call but only to refer me to another 800 number. When I dial that number, I get a recorded menu with three choices for: 1) obtaining a calling card; 2) placing a collect call; or 3) customer service. Imbued with hope that I'm finally getting somewhere, I press 3—only to be confronted by another recorded menu with four choices as follows: 1) billing or calling plans; 2) residential calling card service; 3) corporate card servicing; or 4) choosing AT&T as your long distance carrier.

In my perplexity how to proceed, I find myself wishing for a fifth choice: namely, how to discontinue AT&T as my long distance carrier. While still perplexed, a real voice comes on the line with the proverbial, "How may I help you?" I describe my problem, and am told my call is being referred to someone who can help me. I now go into a 20-minute holding pattern (I've started timing them by now, interspersed as they are with recorded messages: "All our customer service representatives are busy. One will be with as soon as possible." And at one point the even more helpful message: "Your call should be answered in approximately 16 minutes.")

Finally, it is. But after describing my problem once again and being told, "It seems like you got slammed," I end up getting referred to the repair department. There's another 15-minute hold, another description of the problem, some further holding while some sort of checking is going on, followed by the diagnosis that, "Your problem is not with AT&T; it's with your local service. You need to call BellSouth."

By now, I've had it with AT&T. So the first thing I do when I call BellSouth is sign up for BellSouth long distance service, which I'm told it, will take 24 hours to install. Now, at least, I figure, I can't get shuffled back and forth between buck-passers any more. But as detailed in the following chronology, things go downhill from there.

Monday, April 14—Believing my BellSouth long distance service is now in place and all is well, I call my son with high hopes of getting through. But, no, I get the same recorded message as before. So it's back to calling BellSouth service, with more menus, more holds and more referrals. The last person I'm referred to tells me it appears my AT&T service may not have been disconnected and that I should contact them. I tell her that no way, no how am I ever having anything to do with AT&T again and that it's up to Bell South to fix my problem. After some futzing around, she says she's putting in a "trouble ticket" that should take care of things by Wednesday.

Wednesday, April 16—I get home from work and try to call my son again with the same result. The BellSouth service person I finally get through to has no record of my trouble ticket, seems clueless about my problem and not much inclined to do anything about it. I finally get connected to a guy named Michael at BellSouth's Long Distance Service Center in Atlanta. At long last, I can tell I'm dealing with someone who's both proficient and who really wants to help. After doing some diagnostics, Michael concludes the problem is not with BellSouth's long distance network but with its local system in Knoxville. After a call to Knoxville, he assures me that my problem will get resolved on Thursday but that he will call me on Thursday evening to be sure.

Thursday, April 17—I make my usual evening call to my son only to discover that things have gotten worse. Instead of a recorded message, I'm greeted by a dead silence (i.e. no ring at all). I try Los Angeles with the same result and realize that BellSouth's local efforts have left me with no long distance service whatsoever. When Michael calls, he's as frustrated as I am, although by now it's starting to get humorous. A conference-like call with a Ms. Farmer in Knoxville produces profuse apologies and expressions of resolve on her part. Michael promises to stay on the case and to call me again on Friday evening.

Friday, April 18—My ritual call to the Bay Area produces not only a ring but an answer. It's only a voice-mail greeting recorded by my grandchildren, but I feel almost as exultant as an Alexander Graham Bell when his first call went through.

The moral of this story is that, while telecommunications giants can create Kafkaesque snarls for their users, there are still a few good folks like Michael and Ms. Farmer out there to unsnarl them.