Computer chat can confound a conversation

There are few moments in modern life that make me feel like more of an idiot than those in which I am forced to converse with a computer.

I don't understand the current directory assistance system. Last week, I was calling for a phone number in Whitefish that was not listed in the phone book.

The computer answers. "For a business or government number, press or say one. For a residential number, press or say two."

"What city and state?" it then asks in its calm female computer voice. After I answered, "Whitefish, Montana," she asks again. "What city and state please." So I have to repeat it.

"What listing?" I hear next.

I wasn't sure how to pronounce the name, so I say it the best I can, then spell it, only to realize that individual letters are most likely out of the bounds of this computer's voice recognition system and it is instead registering some fantastically long name.

Then the operator says "If that listing is in Richmond, Indiana, say yes. Otherwise, say no."

It took a few seconds to say "no," as I was somewhat surprised by the origin of this question.

(Whitefish, Montana, and Richmond, Indiana, could possibly pass as a rhyme in a rock song, but if I were speaking to a living person, I don't think the two would be confused.)

And then, after my uncomfortable interaction with the computer, the normal human operator still comes on the line and again asks the name of the person whose number I was trying to find.

Which of course begs the question, if at some point in this transaction we need real humans, who are generally able to tell the difference between Montana and Indiana, why not just have them take care of the whole transaction?

No matter how much a computer may try to fool you on the phone, it's usually easy to tell the difference between it and a living, breathing human. It's also easy to tell the difference between the real person and a recorded version.

Lately, though, there's been some voice-mail confusion in our home.

(Though, I emphasize, we do not have one of those deceptive messages where people say "Hello" with great enthusiasm and then wait a few seconds before proceeding so that you start talking and are suddenly interrupted by the rest of the message, which is another part of the vast conspiracy to make us feel awkward on the phone.)

Twice in one recent week I've arrived home from work to be greeted by a voice bearing the distinct accent of someone from India, where I have no acquaintances.

Both messages went something like this: "Hello." Pause. "Hello?" Another pause. "Hello, I'm calling for Mr. Steven Gaiser." (Though he receives many phone calls, there is no Steven in our home.)

Pause. "Hello?"

Then it must click in that there is no one on the other end and the man says: "If you have any questions, call 1-800-…….." (I somehow failed to write the number down.)

What questions could he have in mind? "How's the weather there in Calcutta? How can I make a better curry? What is the meaning of life? What could possibly compel anyone to actually call this number?"

But not all people confused by voice mail are from out of town.

To the person who needed to pick up sewing alterations on Friday, Naomi will not be available this week. She clearly stated as much on our voice mail, though Naomi and I have never had the pleasure of meeting.

I hope someone who knows Naomi and her customers will have read this far.

And I hope Naomi is not from Richmond, Indiana.

Reporter Heidi Gaiser may be reached at 758-4431 or by e-mail at hgaiser@dailyinterlake.com