IF IT IS THE ‘NEW’ AT&T, IT MUST BE TUESDAY
When my
alma mater, BellSouth, was absorbed by Southwestern Bell, aka the “new”
AT&T in 2006, then-BellSouth CEO F. Duane Ackerman said, “Technology
changes and convergence are shaping a new competitive dynamic and
creating tremendous opportunity.” Even my friend, the omniscient
Skeeter Skates, owner of Skeeter’s Tree Stump Removal and Plow Repair in
Greater Metropolitan Pooler wasn’t sure what all that meant, but thought
Ackerman was saying the takeover was a good deal. It certainly was for
Ackerman: According to the AT&T-BellSouth proxy statement, he got $9.2
million in severance pay, plus some $37 million in restricted stock,
restricted stock units, stock options and performance shares.
My
experience with technological change, convergence, competitive dynamics
and the like in the “new” AT&T hasn’t been quite as positive. To wit:
On the Sunday before I was to leave for Scotland on Monday, I discovered
my home telephone deader than a doornail. After a check of the
neighborhood, it seems I was the only one without phone service. The
matter was made a little more urgent by the fact I was scheduled to
appear on a local radio station the next morning by – you guessed it --
telephone.
In the
old AT&T, I would have repair service and negotiated with a human being
on how and when I could get my phone fixed. Not these days. This is
the “new” AT&T. I got a robot. A friendly robot, but a robot
nonetheless. She told me cheerily that together we would find out what
was boogering things up (or words to that effect) and get it fixed. She
began asking questions and I tried my best to answer them correctly.
Still, all I could tell
her
was my
phone was dead. Just dead. As in no dial tone. When the magnitude of
my dilemma began to sink in, Rosie the Robot admitted I had stumped
her. (Robots, despite their reputation, aren’t the geniuses they are
cracked up to be. If they were, they wouldn’t be working on Sundays and
dealing with people like me.) She said it might be better for all
concerned if she handed me off to the “next available” attendant. In
the meantime, I could listen to some really annoying music.
After 31
minutes – enough time to carve a totem pole with a butter knife and for
my cell phone batteries to start gasping for air – Chet came on the
line. Chet was a human but, alas, Chet didn’t have a clue what was
wrong with my telephone service, either, but assured me someone would be
by Tuesday to get it fixed. I told Chet that nobody would be home; we
would be in Scotland. And how did he know he could fix it if he didn’t
know what the problem was? I don’t think Chet had considered that. But
he still wanted somebody at home Tuesday. Maybe Chet had never been out
of the country and didn’t understand how inconvenient it would be to
have to fly back and sit around the house for just one day to get my
phone fixed. Or, maybe Chet didn’t give a rat’s hinny.
Later
that day, I talked to another robot – I assume Ms. Android was taking an
oil break – who informed me there had been a bad storm in my area and
all the phones were out and would be restored – guess when? – Tuesday.
I figured it would be useless to tell him/her/it that everybody in our
neighborhood had service but me and that I wouldn’t be here – guess
when? – Tuesday.
The next
morning, I called one of the few people I know who still works at my old
company and she got the phone fixed in less than ten minutes. I didn’t
have the heart to call Chet and the robots and tell them I now had dial
tone, no thanks to them. Besides, I suspect they had had enough of me
for one millennium.
Call me
old-fashioned, but I’m not overwhelmed with the “new” AT&T in spite of
their convergences and competitive dynamics. I want my old AT&T back.
And, yes, next Tuesday would be just fine.
Download
Printer-Friendly Version Here
((Must have Acrobat Reader
installed... click
here
for a free download!
