In these times of high-speed communication in all spheres there is one system that makes all our lives difficult: the Automated Voice Answering system.
In a country with a remarkably high rate of unemployment, one would think it sensible to employ human beings to answer telephones, especially when most large concerns now have these awful things called ‘call centres’. However, it seems that this is not the case. The greatest form of frustration that most large organisations subject us to goes like this:
You dial the number (generally prefixed by 0860) and, after two rings, a machine picks up the line and says:
“Good day; you are now connected to Grabitallandspring Banking. If you would like this message in English please press one, in Afrikaans press two, in Zulu press three, in Xhosa press four, in Sotho press five, in Shangaan press six, in Ndebele press seven, in Pedi press eight, in Tswana press nine, in Siswati press ten” and so-on.
You press a number. The machine begins again:
“For account enquiries please press one, for debit orders press two, for stop orders press three, for investment banking press four, for savings accounts press five, for transmission accounts press six,” etc. You press a number.
The machine continues:
“If you know the number of the extension to which you wish to speak please press it now; if your enquiry is of a general nature please press one, for our accounts department please press two, or hold for the next available operator.”
Uncertain of what to do now, you hold. The machine once again begins to speak:
“For security purposes this call is being recorded.” Some sort of canned muzak now takes over the line, punctuated every now and then with “Your call is important to us so please hold for the next available operator”. You wait. The voice begins again:
“Grabitallandspring Bank offers you the best and widest option of home loans available on today’s market.” You hold.
“Did you know,” the machine continues, “that over 500 000 people subscribe to our on-line newsletter explaining how to exhaust the public’s patience without us paying one single employee or using one extra man-hour?” The muzak is back for a few moments.
“Your call is important to us, so please hold for the next available operator.”
Nine minutes (yes, I’ve counted them) have now passed and I have yet to speak to a human being; I have almost forgotten why I phoned this number in the first place. Eventually, if I keep the connection open long enough and if I haven’t run screaming into the street, a human being whispers in an almost inaudible and usually incomprehensible voice “You’re speaking to Thandi; how can I help you?”
“Could you please speak up; I can hardly hear.” The voice continues to whisper and you press the phone into your ear so hard that it nearly comes out the other side of your head.
“I need to know to what address you are sending your statements because I have not received one for some months now.”
“What is your account number?”
“123456789”
“Please hold.” The muzak is back, the advertising is back; you can almost hear the tape machine whirring. Minutes pass before the line clicks and the voice once more begins to whisper.
“What is your identity number?”
“I’m sorry; I can’t hear you. Please speak up.” The voice repeats the question in a slightly louder whisper. Perhaps it is you who are going deaf?
“What is your identity number?”
“123456789”
“Please hold.” The line clicks and you are back with the muzak and the advertising. Two minutes pass.
“What is your address?”
You give the address and once again the muzak cuts in. Two minutes pass.
“Thankyou for holding. What sort of account is it?”
You have now been on the phone for at least fifteen minutes and have achieved nothing; the person at the other end of the line is probably in Calcutta because wages are lower there and the only body gaining from this exercise in frustration is Telkom, so, in sheer frustration and annoyance, you slam down the phone and decide it would be better for you to drive thirty kilometres to the nearest branch where you can wait in line and, eventually, speak to a living, breathing, understanding human being who at least knows what he/she is doing.
You may consider this absurd, but I can assure you it’s not. What you have read above is a verbatim transcript of a call to a well-known bank in an effort to obtain a statement on a particular account. To date no such statement has been provided; I have taken approximately five years off my lifespan, and Telkom has become immeasurable richer.
Perhaps we should all go to
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