Machine Language
I thought I was getting a new phone yesterday. I thought wrong. The phone was ordered in Houston. I was to pick it up at a local store just down the road. I arrived. It was there. The clerk scanned my ID and went to clicking on the computer. At the end, came the message to call home. He called. He talked. He handed me the phone. I talked. Then I was told I couldn’t have the phone, the transaction was flagged.
Here’s what I thought to be the sad part. I started a little company I own in 2000. It’s a family business. We have bought phones from this big company from that day to this. Once upon a time, we had a rep who handled our corporate account. Over time, however, as more and more transactions moved online, we became merely a face in the crowd, an input device for a computer, a revenue stream of so little value no one pays attention. Twenty-six years of being a loyal customer paid us no dividend.
In a perfect world, someone would have noticed our company name, would have seen how long we’ve been a client, would have taken steps to verify identity and would have gotten the deal done. Instead, something was entered into a machine, maybe in Mumbai or Delhi, something came back and I was told to go home. There was no explanation, no effort, no nothing. Just no phone. Of course, this isn’t a life-or-death situation. I’ll eventually get the phone. But I’m saddened by the seeming inhumanity of the transaction. Because it appears my phone company is merely a system of relays and switches with no heart.