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Bikram Vohra
Jan 14, 2015, 04:31 PM | Updated Feb 10, 2016, 05:40 PM IST
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Sorry, wrong number.
I love telephone operators. They say the most incredible things.
Like a friend of ours, who called her husband and was told he could not be disturbed.
“Whyever not,” she said, “Is he taking a nap?”
“He is in a meeting.”
“Then why would he be disturbed, is there a problem, besides which, I am his wife, I do not disturb him.”
In telespeak, disturb and interrupt mean the same thing.
I love it when they say, “Hold.” “Hold what? My breath? Your hand? Onto hope?”
Another favourite is, “He has left.”
I am so sorry to hear that, I talked to him only a week ago, what happened, a run-in with the boss, perhaps.
“Left,” can mean left for lunch, left for the day, left the company, left the country, take your pick.
About nine of every ten operators and secretaries will respond, “Sorry, he is not in his seat?”
Well ,where is he, then, under the table, hiding in the water closet, behind the couch?
An option on this one is a more dramatic, “He’s gone.”
You almost feel like sending a condolence message and as you begin to commiserate you realise he has only gone out of the office.
A very common telespeak torture is from the office operator, who moves you directly from the ringing to music.
Now, you wait while listening to the plink plink plunk.
Finally, you get this hello and you have to ask if this is The Tip Top Trading Company.
Yes.
Well, can I speak to The MD.
Back comes the music, followed by a second voice saying, Hello?
Is that the MD’s office?
Yes.
Can I speak to him?
He’s out.
Out of what…sorts, money, patience or just the office!
Okay, I’ll call later, thanks.
You are welcome.
The last sentiment beats everything, seeing the runaround you got.
I had this experience the other day when I called an office to speak to the GM.
“Can you put me through to the boss?”
“No.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“I cannot, he has gone.”
“Oh, I am sorry, hope he has got a better job.”
‘What job?’
“The one he has gone to, imagine it is a better deal.”
“I didn’t know the boss had another job, where is he going?”
“You tell me, you’re the one who said he’s gone.”
“He has gone for the day.”
Fraught with danger, this sort of stuff.
But nothing to beat the operator who said and honestly, she did:
“I am sorry you cannot speak to him, he passed away from the office twenty minutes ago, do you want his mobile number?”
Bikram Vohra, after a prodigiously successful but short stint in Indian journalism, moved to the Gulf in 1984, and has been the most respected editor in the region since then. He has recently launched thewhy.com, a Viewspaper concept. Anyone so inclined can google his funny stuff which cheerfully gets stolen by dozens of sites, something that he marvels at but does nothing about.