Surviving The Traveling Public

X-Telecom-Digest: Volume 17, Issue 123

(After Surviving 130,000 Calls From The Traveling Public)
By: Jonathan Lee-The Washington Post

I work in a central reservation office of an airline company. After
more than 130,000 conversations-all ending with "Have a nice day and
thanks for calling"-I think it's fair to say that I'm a survivor.
I've made it through all the calls from adults who didn't know the
difference between a.m. and p.m., from mothers of military recruits
who didn't trust their little soldiers to get it right, from the woman
who called to get advice on how to handle her teenage daughter, from
the man who wanted to ride inside the kennel with his dog so he
wouldn't have to pay for a seat, from the woman who wanted to know why
she had to change clothes on our flight between Chicago and Washington
(she was told she'd have to make a change between the two cities) and
from the man who asked if I'd like to discuss the existential humanism
that emanates from the soul of Habeeb.

In five years, I've received more than a boot camp education regarding
the astonishing lack of awareness of our American citizenry. This
lack of awareness encompasses every region of the country, economic
status, ethnic background, and level of education.

My battles have included everything from a man not knowing how to
spell the name of the town he was from, to another not recognizing
"Iowa" as being a state, to another who thought he had to apply for a
passport to fly to West Virginia. They are the enemy and they are
everywhere. In the history of the world there has never been as much
communication and new things to learn as today. Yet, after asking a
woman from New York what city she wanted to go to in Arizona, she
asked "Oh, is it a big place?"

I talked to a woman in Denver who had never heard of Cincinnati, a man
in Minneapolis who didn't know there was more than one city in the
South ("wherever the South is"), a woman in Nashville who asked
"Instead of paying for my ticket, can I just donate the money to the
National Cancer Society?", and a man in Dallas who tried to pay for
his ticket by sticking quarters in the pay phone he was calling
from. I knew a full invasion was on the way when, shortly after
signing on, a man asked if we flew to exit 35 on the New Jersey
Turnpike. Then a woman asked if we flew to area code 304. And I
knew I had been shipped off to the front when I was asked, "When an
airplane comes in, does that mean it's arriving or departing?" I
remembered the strict training we had received-four weeks of
regimented classes on airline codes, computer technology, and
telephone behavior -- and it allowed for no means of retaliation. We
were told, "it's real hell out there and ya got no defense".

You're going to hear things so silly you can't even make 'em
up. You'll try to explain things to your friends that you don't even
believe yourself, and just when you think you've heard it all, someone
will ask if they can get a free round-trip ticket to Europe by
reciting 'Mary Had a Little Lamb'." It wasn't long before I
suffered a direct hit from a woman who wanted to fly to
Hippopotamus, NY. After assuring her that there was no such city,
she became irate and said it was a big city with a big airport. I
asked if Hippopotamus was near Albany or Syracuse. It wasn't. Then
I asked if it was near Buffalo. "Buffalo!" she said. "I knew it was a
big animal!"

Then I crawled out of my bunker long enough to be confronted by a man
who tried to catch our flight in Maconga. I told him I'd never
heard of Maconga and we certainly didn't fly to it. But he insisted
we did and to prove it he showed me his ticket: Macon, GA. I've
done nothing during my conversational confrontations to indicate
that I couldn't understand English. But after quoting the round-trip
fare the passenger just asked for, he'll always ask: "... Is that
one-way?" I never understood why they always question if what I just
gave them is what they just asked for. But I've survived to direct
the lost, correct the wrong, comfort the weary, teach U.S. geography
and give tutoring in the spelling and pronunciation of American
cities. I have been told things like: "I can't go stand-by for
your flight because I'm in a wheelchair." I've been asked such
questions as: "I have a connecting flight to Knoxville. Does that
mean the plane sticks to something?" And once a man wanted to go to
Illinois. When I asked what city he wanted to go to in Illinois, he
said, "Cleveland, Ohio."

After 130,000 little wars of varying degrees, I'm a wise old veteran
of the communication conflict and can anticipate with accuracy what
the next move by "them" will be. Seventy-five percent won't have
anything to write on. Half will not have thought about when they're
returning. A third won't know where they're going; 10 percent won't
care where they're going. A few won't care if they get back. And
James will be the first name of half the men who call. But even if
James doesn't care if he gets to the city he never heard of; even if
he thinks he has to change clothes on our plane that may stick to
something; even if he can't spell, pronounce, or remember what city
he's returning to, he'll get there because I've worked very hard to
make sure that he can. Then with a click of the phone, he'll become
a part of my past and I'll be hoping the next caller at least knows what
day it is. Oh, and James ... "Thanks for calling and have a nice
day."

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