FW: RESERVATIONS OF AN AIRLINE AGENT (fwd)

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>>      RESERVATIONS OF AN AIRLINE AGENT
>>      (After Surviving 130,000 Calls From The Traveling Public)
>>      By: Jonathan Lee -- The Washington Post
>> <Dedicated to all the people out there on the phones every day.>
>>
>> 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 the name of "Iowa" as
>> being a state, to another who thought he had to apply for a foreign
>> 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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