“You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em.
Know when to fold ‘em
Know when to walk away
And know when to run…”
- The Gambler, Kenny Rogers
(lyrics by Don Schlitz)
It started simply enough.
The email from my course coordinator for the coming semester asked her faculty to link to a website and list the textbooks we recommended for our courses.
The instructions were pretty clear. Go to the college website, find our course, then link to the "…registration/class schedule page." The email went on to say this was "...VERY IMPORTANT..." and needed to be done by the end of the week.
I was in the middle of restructuring my course for the fall when the email arrived. It was a good breakpoint, so I stood up, stretched, got something to drink, and returned to the computer. This would take less than five minutes.
Navigating to my course was not a problem, but I could not seem to find the "…registration/class…" page. Maybe I would do a quick site search.
Hmm…that resulted in a blank page saying, "Item not found…"
Undeterred, but feeling stress levels begin to slightly rise, I took a deep breath, shook it off, gathered myself, and poked around the website a little more. Nada!
Thirty frustrating minutes later, I managed to find my course through a variety of pathways. But, that pesky ‘registration/class schedule page’ was nowhere to be found.
Yes, I could simply have contacted my coordinator, but she was on holiday, and I knew it would take at least a day for her to get back to me. Plus, I did not want her to think I could not sort out such a simple assignment.
"Keep Calm and Carry On" (the phrase from a British World War II poster) wafted through my mind.
I know…sometimes you just need to let things go, but I was NOT going to be humiliated by this. After all, I have a Ph.D.!
Like a lightning bolt from the sky, the solution struck me. I would call the tech support help desk and explain my problem. This thing would be done with no one the wiser.
I would make a quick call to the college switchboard to get the tech support number and all would be well in my little office in Oro Valley.
The recorded voice was pleasantly welcoming, letting me know I was important. Reminding me options had changed, so I should listen carefully to the possibilities. "Push 9 for student registration." I, of course, was interested in tech support, not registering. I waited for the other choices when the voice politely said, “Push 1 to repeat the options.” What options?
Thinking I had misdialed, I repeated the process and once again discovered ‘9’ was all that was offered. No more and no less.
Okay, I’ll play.
Having had experience with push-button automated systems, I knew exactly what I would do. Repeating the call a third time, listening through the introductions again (I was still important), I Pushed '9' and waited.
A different recorded voice asked me to hold. The anonymous agent indicated the call might be recorded for training purposes, reminding me my call was important. I was inline for the next available representative. After a couple minutes, a real person introduced herself and asked what my questions were about registering.
"I'm not a student, but faculty," I said. "I'm trying to get to tech support. Apparently, there is something wrong with the automated answering service, and you were my only option. Would it be possible for you to look in the phone directory for the tech support number?”
She hemmed and hawed a bit, giving the impression that this was not her job. A little more officiously, she said, "Just a minute, sir, I'll see if I can find a directory.”
A couple of minutes later, she returned with the number for tech support. She also assured me she would get with her supervisor about the automated answering service problem.
I didn't care. This thing was as good as done.
By now, I was into the game for more than an hour. But that was okay. Tech support was in my wheelhouse. They had helped me several times in the past, and they were WONDERFUL!!
Punching the number and humming to myself, a recording answered saying I would get the next available tech. No problem. A few minutes of background music and before I knew it. “Hi, this is Larry, how can I help you?”
Hot dog!!
I introduced myself, indicating I was faculty and had a pretty simple question.
“What is your faculty identification number?” Larry asked. Routine...I gave it.
“What is your phone number?” You should be able to look that up, but okay. I rattled it off.
“What is your birth date?” he asked. Wait! What?
I expressed something unkind, indicating I had used tech support repeatedly and never had been asked this. At any rate, if Larry really needed it, why didn't he just look it up?
Nonplussed, he repeated the request and then asked about my problem. I told him it was pretty simple. Would it be possible for him to direct me to the college webpage for ‘…registration/class schedule…’?
“I don’t exactly know, but I’ll make a ticket for this and get back to you. What is your email address?” It was then I realized Larry was NOT going to be of any help.
You know the cliché about the straw and the camel's back? It came when, having been of no help, Larry asked, "Would you be willing to fill out a survey about our call today?"
Counting to ten, I took a breath and replied, “Larry, the way this call and my day has been going, you truly do not want me to fill out a survey about anything.”
With that, Larry and I were done, and my problem was still unresolved!! (As it turned out, tech support was no longer on campus but had been outsourced to call centers in Texas and Kentucky - I digress).
Apologies to the Brits. I was no longer Calm.
Just before climbing on the desk, in preparation for jumping to my death, my inbox signaled an arriving email. It was a copy of an email to my coordinator from another faculty member confirming she had completed the task.
I am not the sharpest scalpel in the biology labs, but in my utter despair, I realized there was a way out of the cave of ignorance…a path to enlightenment. Plato had written that parable for just this moment - God bless him!
Dropping her a note, I asked where she found the page in question. She replied almost instantly, indicating she didn't know either. But if I followed the link in her email (a completely different one), I would be able to record the course materials for my students.
Following her instructions, I found the page where I indicated the materials I wanted my students to use.
As it turns out, I was wrong how much time it would take to execute the request from my course coordinator. Forget the wasted angst-ridden hour and a half…
Making the change took less than two minutes!
- ted
No comments:
Post a Comment