Peter Bromhead: Call and response

Illustration / Peter Bromhead

After delivering an address on new technology to business students, I was asked about the new wave of automatic telephone recording systems, programmed to conduct intelligent conversations with callers, based on simplified question-and-answer synthesis.

My experience of robotic communications is that they invariably bog down and end up repeating, parrot fashion: "I didn't quite get that."

When a stalemate is reached, the recording is likely to further enrage the frustrated caller by suggesting - in the sort of patronising voice usually reserved for communicating with a 3-year-old - "let's try something different".

Sadly, many of today's bright young executives have eagerly grasped this mindless "deflective shield" communication, naively believing that recording technology is somehow superior to human contact and, of course, saves time and money.

It certainly doesn't save the caller time or money, and probably only raises blood pressure levels, as you're forced to answer a series of numb-minding questions while vainly hoping you might eventually be transferred to a human being.

If this option is denied and you are requested to simply leave a recorded message, this is the clarion moment when you take a deep breath and carefully control the inclination to indulge in a bit of telephone rage.

There are now a number of consultants on the internet advising on the correct way to respond to turgid recorded messages.

One such guru writes about the importance of "tone", suggesting that if you stand, it releases more energy and the receiver may even detect a smile over the phone. This same consultant also suggests it's important to watch your volume levels and enunciation, advising that telephone recordings distort high frequency sounds such as "F" and "S".

I'm unclear whether this refers to certain vulgar four-letter words you may be tempted to utter after listening with ever-increasing impatience to a corporation's barrage of recording options.

I'm unaware which are New Zealand's worst "deflective shield" offenders, but in a British survey, Her Majesty's Revenue and Customs turned out to be the most frustrating organisation, with a maze of telephone messages offering citizens a staggering 400 menu options across just six services.

"So, what's your summing up on such devices?" asked a student, confused by my ramblings. "When it comes to automatic telephone recordings, take me back to the Stone Age," I responded firmly.