Welcome to the New Economy

By Thomas Sullivan

Walking into the bank lobby, I stumble upon an unlikely confrontation. An elderly woman in creased nylon pants and Velcro sneakers is shouting at a weary teller, who stands behind the glass slowly nodding her head. The woman's head is even with the lip of the counter, allowing her to yell straight through the curved slot at the bottom of the glass. As I'm settling into the back of the line, the woman shakes a bony fist in the air and shouts, "I want to talk to an American!"

Apparently, the bank's valued customer is learning the joys of off-shored customer support. When the teller apologizes and relates that the transaction in question can only be completed over the phone, the old woman glares through the protective shield and barks, "I can't understand a word the guy is saying. Is it just me?"

The burly guy in front of me laughs wearily and says, "Nope. Trust me, it's not just you." The old woman turns slowly towards her supporter and smiles with relief. The guy smiles back and says, "No one can understand those guys."

I laugh to myself, thinking about my one and only encounter with overseas support. I was contacting this very bank to resolve a discrepancy. After a few button stabs and a short stay on hold, I got through to a person. From the sound of things, my helper was most likely located in India. In a thick accent, he greeted me cheerily by saying, "Ello, my name eez..." Then he paused for a moment and in a deep, controlled voice said, "Bob." The guy was nothing but polite and efficient, and I felt bad that he had to operate under a disguised identity. But, from what I've read and heard, companies work to eradicate accents and have service reps pick "American" names to fend off wrath from Middle America.

The old woman turns back to the teller and pleads for help. As the two hash things out, I think back to a story I heard recently in a coffee shop: One of the big computer makers off-shored their phone support to India. The company handling the calls in India got so inundated with work that they couldn't keep up, and workers were starting to demand better pay. To address this, the Indian company started off-shoring its own work. To Kentucky.

The teller walks into a back room and emerges through a door to my side. The old woman joins her, and they shuffle across the room to a customer-service phone. As I'm watching this, another teller calls me up to her window.

A minute later, I finish my deposit and head for the door. As I'm leaving, I glance over at the teller and the old woman. The teller, who has the phone up to her ear, is asking the woman questions and then transmitting her responses into the receiver. It's probably not in her job description, but she's now become an interpreter/teller.

Heading through the door, I regret not having gone for the cell phone with a video option. I would love to film this comedy and e-mail it to the genius at headquarters who came up with the off-shoring plan.