The Bainbridge Loop

 

In 1977, an efficiency expert convinced the president of The Bainbridge Corporation to install an automated telephone answering system.  Using colorful charts and graphs he showed how this system was, over the long run, going to save the company hundreds of dollars. 

No longer would they be paying for an employee to man their switchboard.  This automated system would direct each call to the desired contact, or if needed, place them in a holding pattern until that particular contact was available.  Failing that, they were given the option of leaving a message. 

As an added feature, music was added for customers to listen to while waiting.  The president of Bainbridge was to select the music.  He chose light jazz, believing it would be absent of any lyrics that might be offensive to someone.

Over a three-day holiday shutdown, the switchboard was removed and the automated phone system installed.

First thing, Tuesday morning the system lit up with incoming calls.  No longer were their long-time customers greeted by Marge’s pleasant voice, or her charming wit.  Now it was a mechanical, impersonal voice telling them their call was important and to remain on the line.  Their call would be answered in the order it was received.

       There was an almost instant disappointment in hearing this strange robot instead of Marge.  There was no banter, no exchange of recipes or weekend activity.  How could this be the same company they had been dealing with all these years?

       It had never been in Marge’s job description to be friendly, or chatty.  That was simply Marge’s personality coming through.  It wasn’t always the salesman that kept the customers coming back, but rather the feel of the company, which was Marge.  Their familiar contact, the voice without a face, friendly, alive and human, asking about their kids and remembering their birthdays and spouse's name.
That was all Marge.