Category: Joke Board
By Jonathan Lee -- The Washington Post
Submitted to HumourNet by Eric Wejroch
I work in a central reservation office of an airline company. After more
than 130,000 conversations -- all ending with, "Have a nice day and
thanks for calling" -- I think it's fair to say that I'm a survivor.
I've made it through all the calls from adults who didn't know the
difference between a.m. and p.m., from mothers of military recruits who
didn't trust their little soldiers to get it right, from the woman who
called to get advice on how to handle her teenage daughter, from the man
who wanted to ride inside the kennel with his dog so he wouldn't have to
pay for a seat, from the woman who wanted to know why she had to change
clothes on our flight between Chicago and Washington (she was told she'd
have to make a change between the two cities) and from the man who asked
if I'd like to discuss the existential humanism that emanates from the
soul of Habeeb.
In five years, I've received more than a boot camp education regarding
the astonishing lack of awareness of our American citizenry. This lack
of awareness encompasses every region of the country, economic status,
ethnic background, and level of education. My battles have included
everything from a man not knowing how to spell the name of the town he
was from, to another not recognizing the name of "Iowa" as being a
state, to another who thought he had to apply for a foreign passport to
fly to West Virginia. They are the enemy and they are everywhere.
In the history of the world there has never been as much communication
and new things to learn as today. Yet, after asking a woman from New
York what city she wanted to go to in Arizona, she asked, "Oh... is it a
big place?"
I talked to a woman in Denver who had never heard of Cincinnati, a man
in Minneapolis who didn't know there was more than one city in the South
("wherever the South is"), a woman in Nashville who asked, "Instead of
paying for my ticket, can I just donate the money to the National Cancer
Society?", and a man in Dallas who tried to pay for his ticket by
sticking quarters in the pay phone he was calling from.
I knew a full invasion was on the way when, shortly after signing on, a
man asked if we flew to exit 35 on The New Jersey Turnpike. Then a woman
asked if we flew to "area code 304." And I knew I had been shipped off
to the front when I was asked, "When an airplane comes in, does that
mean it's arriving or departing?" I remembered the strict training we
had received -- four weeks of regimented classes on airline codes,
computer technology, and telephone behavior, and it allowed for no means
of retaliation. We were told, "it's real heck out there and ya got no
defense. You're going to hear things so silly you can't even make 'em
up. You'll try to explain things to your friends that you don't even
believe yourself, and just when you think you've heard it all, someone
will ask if they can get a free round-trip ticket to Europe by reciting
'Mary Had a Little Lamb.'"
It wasn't long before I suffered a direct hit from a woman who wanted to
fly to Hippopotamus, NY. After assuring her that there was no such city,
she became irate and said it was a big city with a big airport. I asked
if Hippopotamus was near Albany or Syracuse. It wasn't. Then I asked if
it was near Buffalo. "Buffalo!" she said. "I knew it was a big animal!"
Then I crawled out of my bunker long enough to be confronted by a man
who tried to catch our flight in Maconga. I told him I'd never heard of
Maconga and we certainly didn't fly to it. But he insisted we did and to
prove it he showed me his ticket: Macon, GA.
I've done nothing during my conversational confrontations to indicate
that I couldn't understand English. But after quoting the round-trip
fare the passenger just asked for, he'll always ask: "...Is that
one-way?" I never understood why they always question if what I just
gave them is what they just asked for. But I've survived to direct the
lost, correct the wrong, comfort the weary, teach U.S. geography and
give tutoring in the spelling and pronunciation of American cities. I
have been told things like: "I can't go stand-by for your flight because
I'm in a wheelchair." I've been asked such questions as: "I have a
connecting flight to Knoxville. Does that mean the plane sticks to
something?" And once a man wanted to go to Illinois. When I asked what
city he wanted to go to in Illinois, he said, "Cleveland, Ohio." After
130,000 little wars of varying degrees, I'm a wise old veteran of the
communication conflict and can anticipate with accuracy what the next
move by "them" will be.
Seventy-five percent won't have anything to write on. Half will not have
thought about when they are returning. A third won't know where they re
going; ten percent won't care where they're going. A few won't care if
they get back. And James will be the first name of half the men who
call. But even if James doesn't care if he gets to the city he never
heard of, even if he thinks he has to change clothes on our plane that
may stick to something, even if he can't spell, pronounce, or remember
what city he's returning to, he'll get there because I've worked very
hard to make sure that he can.
Then with a click of the phone, he'll become a part of my past and I'll
be hoping the next caller at least knows what day it is. Oh, and
James... "Thanks for calling and have a nice day. "
And we think have problems getting people to understand us.
hahaha damn, i like this
hahaha, Drew. This is amazing. I really like it.
lol I laughed out loud.