A Conversation with Victor

02/01/2007

Just a few minutes ago I got off an agonizing phone call with a United Airlines reservation clerk.  The gentleman, who gave his name as “Victor Smith,” has me ticked off and in stitches at the same time.

I was attempting to book a flight from Washington, DC to Indianapolis.  A very simple procedure, or so I mistakenly thought, since both flights, to and from, are non-stop and Victor is a trained professional.  I had been to United’s website and had all the flight information ready for those I wished to take.  The issues began when I asked to use a voucher I had been given when I was unable to take a flight in March of last year.  The experience took a turn for the worse, and went down, down, down into a burning ring of fire.

In just over an hour, I spoke to three individuals at United, all with very Anglicized names, but with very Indian accents.  The last was most annoying: “Victor” put me on hold at least six times during the 3000 minutes (about 40) we spoke, as he had me repeat over and over where I was going, when I was returning, how I was paying, the credit card number, the expiration date, my billing address, my phone numbers…and on and on, and if he said it once, he said it a hundred times, “Give me a moment?” If I could have reached through the phone I would probably have choked him.  He has given me a headache. 

The last thing he said to me, after he gave me the locater number for this reservation, was that I must “within twenty-four hours take the voucher to the nearest airport in order to get my ticket.” This after all the time we spent repeating crap over and over.  I could have done all of this in a few minutes at the United Airlines ticket counter at Dulles.  In the time it took Victor to get all this stuff down, I could have driven halfway to Dulles, which is a nifty 90 miles from Beautiful Downtown Berkeley Springs (aka Town of Bath), West Virginia – population 711.

I am over it now.  The rage has passed.  The desire to kill is gone, and I am back to being my benign, soft-spoken self.  I am calm and cool. The headache is dissipating.

There seems to be a trend these days to pull these kinds of call centers out of the US and ship them to India.  I suppose it has something to do with the wages paid here and there.  I remember seeing something about a lady in India who sewed strips down the pant leg of warm-up suits for 17 cents an hour.  Perhaps that is what United pays Victor Smith.  One thing is for sure, they get exactly what they pay for. 

And that is all I have to say about that…