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A bank in Chicago will soon charge customers an extra $3 if they want to see a real human teller, whereas the normal service charges will apply at ATM devices.
(I was about to say ATM machines,
but that's
redundant, since ATM stands for Automated Teller Machine.
ATM also stands for Asynchronous Transfer Mode, which can
cause no end of confusion when you read computer
magazines.)
An official at the Chicago bank said this represents
the wave of the future.
The report added that a big
Seattle bank adopted a similar policy last year, after
which it fired about 400 people.
If routine mechanized transactions and extra charges for services that used to be part of the package are the tsunami about to strike us, what can we expect next?
It struck me that with some diddling with computer, sound card, modem, etc., I could produce the next wave in answering machines:
Hello. You have reached the Quillen household, unless
you think someone here owes you money, in which case you
have reached the wrong number. If you are calling to sell
long-distance telephone service or aluminum siding, please
leave your home telephone number and customary family
dinner hour, so that we can get back at you.
If you wish to leave a message for Abby, please press
1 now, for Martha, 2 ... If you wish to speak to the first
available human being, please press the pound sign twice,
then enter your credit card number and expiration date.
After the confirmation tone, your account will be billed at
$4.95 per minute during the conversation.
The next time flashing lights appear in your rear window and you pull over, you might hear a synthesized announcement from the bullhorn behind you:
You have been clocked at 61 miles per hour in a
55-mph zone. If you wish to talk to the trooper about how
your speedometer has been acting up lately, please exit
your vehicle now with your non-refundable $10 conversation
fee in hand.
Otherwise, please insert your magnetic-stripe driver
license in your transponder so that the trooper can
activate the automated ticket-printer in the patrol vehicle
and immediately notify your insurance company via cellular
telephone...
This is progress, but it doesn't mean that all the old methods will vanish -- they'll just become expensive exercises in nostalgia.
For instance, riding a horse used to be a routine way to get from hither to yon; there was nothing special about it. Nowadays you can still ride a horse -- but it will cost you at least $10 an hour. Automation has replaced the horse, but the experience is still available to those willing to pay a premium.
Boarding a steam-powered train was another routine facet
of life 50 years ago. You can still respond to the whistle
and the conductor's call of All aboard,
but it will
involve considerable vexation and expense -- driving to a
distant depot, instead of using one in town, and paying $30
or $40 for a trip that used to cost a couple dollars.
Again, they take something that used to be routine, improve the machinery, and then charge you if you want to do it the traditional way.
This seems to extend even to vice. Phone sex
seems to run about $3.95 a minute, whereas the real thing
appears to cost considerably more -- at least $150 for a
quickie, if recent news reports are accurate.
It has also appeared in retailing. Hard-core penny pinchers often boast of their savings through catalog shopping -- that is, dealing with machinery instead of people. Regular retail costs more, they say. Thus if you want to deal with a human, you pay, except it's built into the price of the goods, rather than tacked on as a $3 surcharge.
However, I keep wondering why all this automation is so
popular. It must represent a triumph of the American
educational system, so often maligned. For years, we've
been telling children Don't talk to strangers.
All people are strangers the first time we meet them, routine commerce often involves meeting folks for the first time -- well, you can figure the rest. The result is that, in Chicago and Seattle, you now must pay extra to talk to a stranger when you want to put money in your bank account.
Granted, there are other pundits who say that this automation just represents an effort to cut costs and improve accuracy.
They're wrong, though. I moved to Kremmling in 1974 when Carl Breeze owned the bank. Accounts were kept by hand, and there were no account numbers on checks -- every check was a counter check.
Having moved there from the civilized Front Range, I thought this bank was rather primitive. But the service fee for a checking account was only $1.25 a month, and my hand-written statement was always accurate to the penny.
Three years later, some progressive outfit bought the Bank of Kremmling and installed machinery. Service fees immediately rose to $4.50 a month, and the monthly statements became works of fiction.
So much for increased accuracy and reduced cost. The truth is that we've all learned never to talk to strangers.
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