THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, July 7, 1996 TAG: 9607040062
SECTION: REAL LIFE PAGE: K1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY CHARLISE LYLES, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: 103 lines
SO LEAVE a message at the beep and I'll get back to ya. Beeeeeeeeep. . . ''
``Hello . . . Hello . . . Do I have to talk to this freakin' machine? Again?''
It seems like most of us spend a lot of time talking on the phone to people who aren't there. Or are there - you know who you are - but aren't picking up.
Ah, the bleeping beep.
It's been about 10 years or so since you - I know you're there - and everybody else I know got an answering machine or voice mail. I'm still trying to cope with this. There's just something dehumanizing about talking to a machine.
For some talking to tape is fun, a chance to be creative, philosophical and organized. To others, it's pure frustration, yearning for a human when all you get is a voice.
I'm not the only one who's hesitant to talk. The elderly have difficulty grasping computer conversation.
Bill Potter, who sells Bell Atlantic voice mail, says men tend to be more shy about talking to machines than women. ``If you get calls from someone who hangs up and doesn't leave a message, it's probably a man,'' he says.
Brian Melchor of Portsmouth is such a guy. He's in the celebrity bodyguard business and plugged in to a sophisticated voice mail-activated pager.
But Melchor admits he doesn't like talking to a machine. The message might just fall on the wrong ears.
Melchor says he receives messages from clients like Johnnie Cochran of O.J. fame. I've got a little message I'd like to leave for him: Where's the glove, pal?
On the other hand, there are those who adjust quickly.
Some folks are downright fluent. They talk to a machine just like they're talking to you. In fact, they're probably glad it isn't you. They can do their schtick.
A former ODU basketball coach has been known to talk. And talk. And talk. If the tape beeps, he'll hang up, call back and inform you, ``As I was saying.
What does he think this is? Open-mike night?
Others are fluent with the technology itself. Torture for tech-nots like me.
A particular business man is known to have a box for each one of his children - all nine of them.
``Hello. We're not home right now. If you'd like to speak with . . . , press 1. If you'd like to speak with . . . , press 2. If you'd like to speak with . . . , press 3.''
Anita Jordan-Williams of Norfolk once had a voice mail box for aspects of her life.
``Hi, this is Anita. I'm not home right now. But if you called regarding religious activities, press 1. If you called for other matters, press 2.'' I'll get back to ya.''
To a lot of young folks who've grown up with this stuff, it's just another toy. They get cute and clever with music, sound effects, witty lines.
If Alan West is not home in Virginia Beach, you'll get the first chords of the ``Star Trek'' theme, then: `` `Space - the final frontier.' Wait a minute - aren't you a little too early for that? Oh, yeah. You can start talking after the beep.''
``I've always wanted to be an actor and this is my chance to do a little performance,'' said the 21-year-old ODU English major.
His repertoire includes Tom Anderson of Beavis and Butt-Head, and a Jim Carrey impersonation. ``All righty. . . ''
``I got a lot of hangups on that one.'' West says.
The musical-theater messages drive his grandmother crazy. ``They run up her long distance bill.''
But it's human nature to put a unique thumbprint on everything. A message tape is no different from a personalized license plate.
LVAMSG.
Though the effect of voice mail on human behavior is a vast, unexplored field, theories are emerging.
``Some people don't like to leave their voice. It's a soul kind of thing,'' says Ronald Rice, a Rutgers University communications professor, in a telephone interview from Salt Lake City - real time. ``Just like some Indians wouldn't want to be photographed because they believe their souls would be captured.''
Raspy, scratchy, screechy, some hate the sound of their own voice. Recording only magnifies the offense, like Bob Dylan in Dolby.
They'll just have to work on voice cosmetology, Rice says.
But voice mail does not dehumanize, Rice says, refusing to validate my feelings and making me wish I'd gotten his voice mail instead.
``We compare it to an idealized communication that we never had,'' he says.
``It's a fantasy that we always got to talk to who we wanted, that they had information we wanted when we called. My study showed that three-quarters of the time in business you never got to the intended person on the first try.''
But I found Joyce Gioia, an ``ordained multi-faith minister'' who agrees with me.
``You are right on target to recognize that voice mail and similar technologies threaten to dehumanize. . . .''
That's all I wanted to hear her say.
But Rice raises an interesting point: Machines can relay emotional context. ``From the sound of a person's voice you get a sense of their mental state as it relates to the message. That tells you a lot more than a piece of paper.''
Can you tell from my voice that I'm upset because you're not there?
``To tell you the truth, I'm glad you're not there. No time wasted with idle chitchat or you nosing in my business.
``Hey, gotta go. Nice talking to ya.'' ILLUSTRATION: JANET SHAUGHNESSY/The Virginian-Pilot by CNB