My Name is Kafka, How May I Help You?

Our phone hasn't been working for weeks. Apart from the blessed silence, there has been the never-ending battle to get some attention from The Phone Company. Back in the day, when they first were The Phone Company, Ma Bell, etc., the monopoly and public utility combined, you could at least call the nearest office, talk to somebody, and get the appropriate repair person. Now, even though we live in a town the population of which would fit easily into a middling college stadium, with a larger but still fairly small city a few miles away, we're left with 800 numbers that don't work, talking to robots and India, and an online system designed to discourage anyone from using it.

And guess what, the monopoly never left, just the service. For us, it's the same company: AT&T, which bought up the various local and regional companies that were formed when Bell was forced to shed them in the 1970s. Well, Ma Bell is back, only now she's even more Kafkaesque.

The Phone Company got broken up because it was a monopoly, and because as such, it controlled the introduction of new products and limited choices. They owned the phones and everything else connected with them. So now we have a bewildering array of choices, plus all the complexities of what the phone company is responsible for and what they aren't. And the monopoly, where it counts: the wire.

The alternative for Internet is the cable company, another monopoly, which is just as allergic to service.

Check out their web pages and try and find how to contact them to get a problem diagnosed and repaired. If you accidentally hit upon the right 800 number, try getting a repair appointment out of their robot voice. You can scream "agent!" and "operator!" at him, and after a wait you might get one. Who will refer you to another number--and the same robot.

Our problem is complicated, having to do with the DSL jack, even though the DSL is fine at the moment, but the phone doesn't work. We've figured out that much, with the help of an electrician and the one human being apparently not in India I managed to talk to.

We're seriously considering joining the now one-third of Americans who have cell phones but no land line. But that's not much of a solution. We still have to deal with the DSL, or else go to cable, and the cable company is just as service-averse. Their web page is no better. They all offer you a stunning array of options to buy stuff and services. AT&T is apparently in the satellite TV business now as well. But try to find a contact number.

In addition to discouraging low-profit services like repair, there is the additional motive of discouraging land lines altogether, partly because they aren't as profitable in general than cellular, but also because there are legal requirements, in order to insure that all Americans have the basic right of phone service, no matter where they live. That makes the whole business less profitable, and therefore, something to discourage.

The cynicism of all this is pretty sickening, but equally sickening is the ethic behind it. It's all about buying, not repairing. That's a big problem with the alternative: the cell phone is the epitome of the throwaway culture. There are millions of cell phones--perhaps billions by now--that had a brief life of use but will exist for much longer as long-term toxic waste. E-waste is a growing problem that will soon be overwhelming.

I don't have one, although this now probably means I will have to give up my goal of being the last American to have a cell phone, but I'm pretty sure that the idea of getting a cell phone repaired would create blank stares in an entire generation. It does not compute.

In the meantime, don't call us, we'll call you. On Margaret's cell phone.