Dear fellow
travelers,
This is
another nostalgic pondering, so triggered by an article I received which I have
included at the end.
This refers
back to the time when the old telephones were used. When you actually
dialed a number, not pushed a button. I worked in management during
that time for the local telephone company and we were assigned
duty positions to cover during strikes. I was assigned to
"Information". This is when operators were women only; before male operators, 911, automation and obviously the Internet.
The
"Information" voice was the "go to person" who
knew everything.
The
first time I had strike duty with only five minutes of training, I
was lead to my stall, where a large telephone directory was located and
frequently requested calls were posted on the wall, then given a
headset--and I was on duty.
I remember my
very first call--
"I want
"the Chickens"? I don't go to work today."
Say
"WHAT"??? no chickens listed, but then my spelling
is still not the greatest.
"The
Chickens"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" he kept repeating!!
My friend who had
been on duty a few hours longer, heard me and began pounding on the glass
partition. She was hollering the name of a company downstate, a big
chicken plant. Well-- one down.
The calls
kept coming, everything from what was the weather, to fires, car accidents, and
then when I thought two hours had passed, it had only been ten minutes.
I couldn't find the
numbers, my neck was in a knot. but some callers did actually ask
for telephone numbers but I still couldn't find them easily.
I do remember
a women calling who didn't want to live any longer, and I walked her thru
her finding her own telephone book, giving me her doctors name and
number, and then hers. and then I took a break, which were strictly
regulated. and I called her doctor. (this was not the normal procedure,
but then I was not a regular operator.)
We worked 12
hour shifts, for however long the strike lasted, usually three weeks or
so. I remember praying the regular "Information operators" got
every penny they were asking for, if not more.
Time moves
on and..
Now we have
male operators. DIRECTORY ASSISTANCE (not Information) and
automation, 911 for emergencies, and the Internet for the
weather, but to me I must admit I do miss the voice of the women
who knew everything, except when they were on strike......
Here
is the promised inspiration from the other side of the line. from a
grateful caller.
ENJOY:
When I was a young boy,
my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood.. I remember the
polished, old case fastened to the Wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of
the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with
fascination when my mother talked to it.
Then I discovered that
somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was
"Information Please" and there was nothing she did not know.
Information Please could supply anyone's
Number and the correct
time.
My personal experience
with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a
neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger
with a hammer, the pain was terrible, but there seemed no point in crying
because there was no one home to give sympathy.
I walked around the
house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The
telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the
landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my
ear.
"Information,
please" I said into the mouthpiece just above my head.
A click or two and a
small clear voice spoke into my ear.
"Information."
"I hurt my
finger..." I wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough now that
I had an audience.
"Isn't your mother
home?" came the question.
"Nobody's home but
me," I blubbered.
"Are you
bleeding?" the voice asked.
No,"I replied.
"I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts."
"Can you open the
icebox?" she asked.
I said I could.
"Then chip off a
little bit of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice..
After that, I called
"Information Please" for everything.. I asked her for help with my
geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math.
She told me my pet
chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and
nuts.
Then, there was the time
Pete, our pet canary, died. I called,
Information
Please," and told her the sad story. She listened, and then said things
grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled. I asked her, "Why
is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only
to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?"
She must have sensed my
deep concern, for she said quietly, " Wayne , always remember that there
are other worlds to sing in."
Somehow I felt better.
Often, in moments of
doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I
appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her
time on a little boy.
A few years later, on my
way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle . I had about a half-hour or
so between between planes. I spent 15
Minutes or so on the
phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was
doing, I dialed my hometown
Operator and said, "Information Please."
Miraculously, I heard
the small, clear voice I knew so well.
Information."
I hadn't planned this,
but I heard myself saying,
I hurt my finger a long time ago.
There was a long pause.
Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your finger must have healed by
now."
I laughed, "So it's
really you," I said. "I wonder if you have any idea how much you
meant to me during that time?"
I wonder," she
said, "if you know how much your call meant to me.
I never had any children
and I used to look forward to your calls."
I told her how often I
had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I
came back to visit my sister.
"Please do",
she said. "Just ask for Sally.
Three months later I was
back in Seattle . A different voice answered,
"Information."
I asked for Sally.
"Are you a
friend?" she said.
"Yes, a very old
friend," I answered.
"I'm sorry to have
to tell you this,"She
said. "Sally had been
working part time the last few years because she was sick. She died
five weeks ago."
Before I could hang up,
she said, "
Wait a minute, did you
say your name was Wayne
?"
Yes." I answered.
Well, Sally left a
message for you.
She wrote it down in
case you called.
Let me read it to
you."
The note said,
"Tell him there are
other worlds to sing in.
He'll know what I
mean."
I thanked her and hung
up. I knew what Sally meant.
Have you listened to anyone today?
Just
Pondering on helpfulness
Rev Linda Patton, ENTC
)