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Key Pulse 61
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| Key Pulse Issue 61 - June 30th, 2001 |
| The Imitation Operator from Hell |
| Written by: Cuebiz (BSC - Team Black Sheep) |
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Ring...
Ring...
"Damn phone. Iam begining to hate phones"
Ring...
Ring...
Okay, okay, I guess one phone call can't hurt.
"Operator."
"Uh, somethings wrong with this payphone. The only number that works is "0", can you
place a call for me? I'll drop my coins into the slot so you can hear the tones"
This guy must be kidding me; he doesn't really think that after a sentence like that, I'd
actually let him get a free call with his stupid little DOS programs, right?
"Excuse me; exactly what tones are you talking about?"
"Does it sound like this?"
I then bring up my mini-cassette recorder and play several quarter tones to the caller.
"Uh, yeah. I guess. Can you make a call for me?"
"Sure, play your quarter tones; give me about 10 bucks, okay?"
"Ummm, uh, okay"
PleePleeep-Pleep, PleePleeep-Pleep, PleePleeep-Pleep, PleePleeep-Pleep.
"Thats a dollar; is that alright?"
"Sure, why not. Hold on and i'll connect you"
"The number I wanna call is - "
Ring...
Ring...
"Hello? 911, what is your emergency".
*Click*
Oh well, I guess he didn't know that I could patch him into 911. Oh well; back to messing with
CLID checksums. Okay, mister Kevin Wells from 405-689-3201, you shall be calling from the white-
house. Lets see how 405-689-1472 feels about getting a call from Washington DC. Okay, the light
on my panel is glowing again. Lets hear some ringing... *click*
Ring...
Ring...
Ring...
Ring...
"Operator"
"Iam having trouble finding a number; can you help me find it?"
"Sorry; the last time I played hide and go seek with a number, I lost two days of work"
"I mean that I dont know the number to a business, can you give me the number?"
"Sure, couldn't hurt - What is the name of the business".
"NewYork something ...."
"Sure, the number for NewYork something is 212-890-2356"
"No. No. No. the name of the company isn't NewYork Something; it starts with NewYork, and
theres' another word in the name. Come on man, how did you get to be an operator?"
"I realy dont know. I just hung around Pacific Bell, and soon enough, I got hired".
"Are you going to help me or not?"
"Oh, I have a choice. Okay. Goodbye."
*click*
Lets see how many people are on the 1711; Hrmm. Oh, cool. there's a call coming in. I like the
def better. They're often more inteligent. I start typing to the person on the other end.
OPERATOR GA
* hi ga
WHAT CAN I HELP YOU WITH GA
* nothing ga
Will today ever end? Do people have nothing better to do? Oh my god. I think that I should just
sit and forget about tonight and daydream about going home and sleeping. I turn my attention back
to what my person is keying to me.
* are you there ga
NO
* talk to me ga
STANDBY
* ok
*click*
I guess I can take a shot at being a lineman for now. I guess this plastic duck could take over
my panel for now. I saw it on a cartoon once.
"Gwen, I'll be back; Iam taking one of the vans out for a spin".
I walk up to a random van, looking for a van that one of our careless linemen didn't lock (its
mandatory; but they dont). I jump in, glance at a nudie magazine left on the dashboard, and
start it up. I grab my cell-phone and ring up Gwen who's probably taking my place at the board
right now.
Ring...
"Hello, Operator my name is Gwen how can I help you?"
"Oh my god Gwen; you answer the phones like a lesbian"
"Oh, James, its you. What do you want? If you didnt' notice Iam busy doing your job"
"No, I need you to look up 611. I want to solve some problems in the field".
"Oh okay, we have two people... choose one; one or two?"
"Ummm, give me two".
"Okay, this ones in downtown; Rochester Avenue, 531 the old King building; Apartment 22A"
"Whats their problem?"
"They claim to have a problem with the wiring in their building; we told them to wait till
tomorrow morning - so I advise you call them before you get there, to see if its okay with
them. You wouldn't want to piss them off"
"Sure, okay. bye"
"What, wait! I forgot to give you the -"
*click*
Okay, here we go... the old King building.....
I get out of the car; glance at a homeless man eating his own feces; and then started looking
for apartment 22A. Hrrrmmmm. This is harder than I thought. These numbers aren't sequential at
all. They seem to go 21B, 35C, 20A, 45D ... and so on and so on... I see NO pattern. WTF is up
with these old buildings. Were they built by illiterate monkeys who were trained how to stack
bricks and teach homeless people how to eat shit?
"Oh, cool. Here it is... Apartment 22A, right in between apartment 59E, and 43B"
Knock! Knock! Knock!
"Hello? Pacific Bell. Iam here to fix your phone! Hello?"
Knock! Knock! Knock!
The door opens and there's a 7 or 8 year old behind it.
"My parents are asleep; wait here, okay?"
"Sure. Why not... hey kid do you have beer in the fridge?"
"Sure. Hold on"
The kid closes the door on my face and I wait for about fifteen minutes. A man in his late
thirties opens the door with a beer in his hand.
"Who are you? and why are you telling my kid to give you alcohol?"
"Hi, Iam Ken, from Pacific Bell. Im here to fix your phone. I know we said that we'd send a guy
in the morning but my boss called me up and bribed me with time and a half pay"
"So, you think you can just waltz over here at one in the morning and we're supposed to just
welcome you with hospitality? I dont think so".
"Okay sir; but Iam the best they've got and I could fix your problem in about ten minutes"
"Yeah, but Iam a technician and I couldn't fix it. What makes you think you can fix it in just
ten mintues? I personally doubt you."
"Oh well, Iam going then; I have another customer who would be more than willing to accept my
services. Have a good night".
The man hesitates and then calls after me.
"Well, if you can do it as fast as you say you can...."
"What the hell, come on in - here's your beer"
I walk in, grab my beer, and take a look around. This house is more a mess than my old dorm
room; and we were computer nerds who didn't do anything except code. This guy looks like either
a stock-brocker or a lawyer or something.
"So, show me where you think the problem is coming from, you ARE a techie aren't you?"
"Sure... Its uhh umm errr ummm"
I decide to mess with him for a while. I walk over to his power box located near his kitchen
and opened it up.
"Err, thats where I was going. Thats the uhhh ummm, damn I forgot its name... what do you
call it again?"
"Oh, this is the defribulator; this is where most of the problems are located".
"Yeah, thats it; I learned that in tech-classes at the uhh... community college"
"Sure. Uh, excuse me; can you hold this wire. See, its the one labled 'Warning: Live Electrical
current, DO NOT TOUCH'"
"Ummm okay".
He grabs the wire and then asks, "Hey, did you shut of the electricity?", and then before I
could answer, he grabs the other wire, thus completing the circuit.
Five or six fizzles later; he lets go and falls to the floor. I give him some of my beer and
then I find out that his problem wasn't his wires; it was an internal problem which only could of
been dealt with at the CO.
"Whoa, I've found the problem; I need to go to our central office to fix it. Thanks for your
time; have a good night"
I let myself out of the door and drink the last of my beer. I jumped in the van and did some
of the best drunk driving 'car-dodges' that I personally have ever witnessed.
Alas, Iam back. Gwen seems to be taking care of all the complaints and I walk over to our
employee lounge and make myself a cup of coffee.
More nights to come....
