The life of a telephone operator is not glamorous. About 1/2 of our calls go something like this:
Operator: Good morning/afternoon/evening, how may I assist you?
Caller: I need to be connected to {
fill in the blank}
(
notice the lack of 'please' or 'thank you')
Operator: Certainly. Thank you for calling.
At this point, the operator presses the TRANSFER button on the phone, waits for the other line to ring, and presses TRANSFER again, which connects the two parties and disconnects the operator.
Last night, one of our operators had a brain fart of epic proportions. Here's how her call went:
Operator: Good evening, how may I assist you?
Caller: I need to be connected to room 1234
Operator: Certainly. Thank you for calling.
She then presses the TRANSFER button, and has a mini-stroke or something, because the next thing she knows, the woman in room 1234 has answered the phone, and she launches into...
Operator: Good evening, how may I assist you?
Woman: You called me.
Operator: No, you called me.
Woman: I didn't call you.
Operator: Oh well, the lines must be crossed. Have a nice evening.
The woman in the room disconnects, and then the operator notices the original caller sitting on hold. And the world shifts back into focus. She re-connects with the original caller...
Operator: Thank you for holding. That was room 1234, right?
Caller: Yes.
Operator: I'll connect you. Thank you for calling.
I realize this probably isn't funny to anyone who doesn't work in my workplace... or anyone who doesn't know the woman involved in the story (uber-blonde). But I wanted to write it down because it will always make me laugh... or at least remember how I belly-laughed when I first heard the story for myself!
Of course, last night I had my own embarassing phone call. This is especially impressive when you consider it was the ONLY contact I had with a hotel guest at all yesterday. We got a call from Mr. Johnson in room 4321, but the profile that came up was for Mrs. Smith in room 4312. Mr. Johnson was distraught because he had gotten Mrs. Smith's voicemails, and none of his friends or family had been able to reach him. So we at the Help Desk did what we know how to do (
we're assuming at this point that it's not a physical telephony problem, but a computer problem). We checked both people in and out of their rooms, re-sent their reservations to the telephone system, and waited a few minutes.
hmm...but how will we know if the changes worked?
I volunteer to call Mr. Johnson, since we know he's still awake. (did I mention this was after midnight?) So I call room 4321, and a very sleepy woman answers the phone.
me: Mrs Johnson?
her: no it's not.
me: I'm sorry...is this Mrs. Smith?
her: yes it is.
me: I apologize. This is the hotel operator and your telephone lines were crossed and we thought we had fixed them. I guess we didn't. I'm so sorry for waking you.
her: that's ok.
me: good night.
At this point I hang up the phone, get laughed at by everyone who heard the conversation, and practically fall on the floor from the embarassment and lack of blood flow to my extremities because my face has turned six shades of red.
Looking back, I wish I had gone with the classic, "sorry wrong number" instead of launching into a description of who I was and why I was calling. What a mess! Oh well...I guess I really just don't think fast on my feet!
The sky has fallen. Chicken Little, which I absolutely loved, was snubbed by the AMPAS and did not receive a nomination for Best Animated Feature. The only three films nominated were Howl's Moving Castle, Corpse Bride, and Wallace & Gromit.
