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Phone technology ringing in new times at newspaper
If you hear a scream or two from the direction of downtown,
don't dial 911.
It's just the gang at the Abilene Reporter-News trying to adjust
to a new phone system.
Every time we turn around, somebody is trying to drag us, kicking
and screaming, into the 21st century. The latest effort involves
a new phone system. Lots of nifty features are included, such
as direct-dial numbers that now allow folks in the community to
reach folks like me direct. I like that.
Of course, you'll probably only get our answering machines.
So much of the time our advertising staff and we hounds in the
newsroom are out making the rounds. But we do want to hear from
you, so please leave a message.
The paper's wise and all-knowing switchboard operator, Millie
Ates, has been telling us for some time now how crucial the phone
system is to our profession. Alas, some of us have been slower
in accepting this hard fact than others.
To be honest, some of us didn't take phones very seriously
years ago.
For instance, back in the 1970s, when the Reporter-News was
a far nuttier place, reporters would occasionally hide a colleague's
phone in his own bottom desk drawer, then ring it from another
extension, just to watch him dig frantically through all the foot-high
papers on his desk to answer it.
Never did it occur to him to look for his phone -- ringing
wildly all the while Ñ in his very own desk drawer.
This was just one of the old newsroom initiation rites.
I'VE BEEN NEUTERED!
Another prank involved taping down the prongs the receiver
sat on, so when somebody actually answered a phone, it kept right
on ringing.
What a powerless feeling that was. Back in the 1970s, some
reporters felt they were too important to be bothered with local
goings-on. They felt their true calling and talent involved the
Woodward-Bernstein journalism going on in big cities. As a result,
few rushed to pick up ringing phones in the newsroom because it
only meant more tedious calls, ranging from somebody's champion
watermelon to somebody's Aunt Myrtle turning 100.
Of course, there were some who tried to set us straight. I
don't remember much about City Editor Don Flores, except that
he insisted phones in the newsroom be answered within three rings.
Otherwise he went ballistic. Today he's publisher of the "El
Paso Times."
I imagine phones don't ring long there, either.
As phone technology has progressed, so has the tendency for
strange things to happen. A few years ago, I left a smart-alecky
greeting on my answering machine for any and all callers, saying
they could find me at Harlow's Smokehouse at noon but that they
would also have to buy my lunch if they actually showed up.
While I was out, my silly voice-mail greeting, for no good
reason, began booming through the newspaper's intercom system
like the voice of God gone awry. Worse yet, it loudly repeated
itself every few minutes, confounding executives and causing fellow
employees to glare at me upon my return to the office.
I don't know how they fixed it, but it took them a while. All
they told me later was they somehow "neutered" my phone's
access to the intercom system, bringing calm to the Abilene Reporter-News
at last.
SILICON SALLY
For the record, transition to our latest high-tech phone system
has been smooth, though at one point Monday I did ask Editor Glenn
Dromgoole about a cryptic phone message he steadfastly maintained
he did not send me. He then asked me about my equally cryptic
message to him, which I did not send him.
Confused? So were we. Apparently, our recorded phone greetings
slipped into phone cyberspace or something and wound up on each
other's answering machine.
And our technology writer, Brian Bethel, insisted Monday his
new phone was actually "mad" at him. To hear Brian,
the phone was hoping it would be assigned to fellow staffer Jerry
Reed. Or something like that.
Other than that, though, things have been fine.
Granted, I have had occasion to wonder about this "high-tech"
phone installation crew getting us plugged in. One fellow had
phone numbers and special codes scribbled in ink all over the
palm of one hand.
"It's a note-pad," he explained when I asked. "That
way I can't put it down and walk off!"
Right.
All this new phone technology is super, but it is taking some
of the romance out of the job. For instance, the friendly, soothing
feminine voice heard on our pre-recorded phone instruction system
is not, I'm told, from a real woman at all.
In truth, this comely voice is just a bunch of computer chips
leading us along. The phone installation bunch calls "her"
(and with deep affection) "Silicon Sally."
"Well," one of them told me when I looked crestfallen
at this revelation, "someone's got to burst your bubble."
Columnist Bill Whitaker can be reached at his new and improved
number, 676-6732. If he's out, leave word on his new and improved
answering machine.
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Copyright ©1996 or
1997, Abilene Reporter-News / Texnews / E.W. Scripps. Publications
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