Phone Games Not All Fun and Games

I phoned the main switchboard at Dodger Stadium. A robot answered the phone. A family of robots, in fact.

“Good afternoon,” a male robot voice said.

Immediately, a female robot voice cut in and said, “Thank you for calling the Los Angeles Dodgers, home of the 1988 world champions.”

You could quibble with the wording. Technically, the Dodgers can’t be a home, because the Dodgers are a group of people, and world champions, actually World Series champions, can’t live inside the Dodgers, unless that’s what players mean when they talk about playing within themselves.

A nit-picker would say the voice should have thanked me for calling Dodger Stadium , home of the 1988 world champions, but how do you explain that to a robot? Besides, I was eager to hear if the male and female robot voices would break into “Row, Row, Row Your Boat.”

They didn’t. The female robot gave instructions.

“For ticket information, press 1; for address and driving instructions, press 2 . . . “

Finally she said: “Or stay on the line and an operator will be with you. Thank you.”

Pause, then a second male robot, the operator, came on the line and said, “Please hold while you are being connected.”

Then there were doorbell-type chimes, and a third male robot said, “Good afternoon.”

Apparently the Dodgers have a whole stable of these voices, an entire rep company.

Presumably, if a caller is patient, he or she eventually will interface with, or intervoice with, an actual live being. I didn’t wait to find out, because by then I had forgotten why I called in the first place, so I hung up.

The Dodgers aren’t the only organization that has installed robots to greet the phoning public. The Times has a similar computerized system. Still, it is surprising that the Dodgers went this route, because they pride themselves on being a family organization, a mom-and-pop ballclub.

I was even more surprised when I learned that the Dodger bullpen phone has gone robot, too. I happened to obtain a transcript of a recent phone call placed by Tom Lasorda in the Dodger dugout, to bullpen coach Mark (Beach) Cresse.

Female robot: “Good evening . . . “

Lasorda: “Hey, what’s a woman doing . . . “

Male robot: “Thank you for calling the bullpen of the world champion Dodgers, home of the big blue, rally-snuffing, snuff-dipping crew. We also serve who sit and wait. No job too big or too small.

“If you would like a right-handed pitcher to warm up, press 1. If you need a lefty, press 2. If you need a pizza, you have dialed an incorrect number. Just kidding. A little robot humor.

“If you would like to actually speak to someone, other than a scary, disembodied mechanical voice like me, please stay on the line.”

Pause.

Lasorda: “What the . . . “

Female robot: “I’m sorry, all of our bullpen coaches are temporarily busy, but please stay on the line. Your call will be answered in the order in which it was received. While you are waiting, please enjoy this musical interlude.”

Voice in dugout: “Hey, Tommy, nobody’s getting up in the pen. What’s wrong? The Cards are lighting Orel up like a Christmas tree.”

Lasorda: “I’m on hold. It’s a new phone system. Right now I’m listening to a medley of bullpen tunes. You know--’Fool on the Hill,’ ‘Got My Mojo Workin’,’ ‘Are You Ready? (Yes I’m Ready)’ . . . “

Voice in Dugout: “Well, speaking of hits, the Cards just got another one and loaded the bases. Orel’s running outta gas fast.”

Lasorda: “Geez. I’m still on hold. Stall for time. Throw a dog out onto the field. Have Gibby come down with another injury . . . “

Real female voice on phone: “Dodger bullpen.”

Lasorda: “Lemme talk to Beach.”

Woman: “I’m sorry, Mr. Cresse is in a meeting.”

Lasorda: “Meeting! I can see him with his feet up on the fence, eating a Dodger Dog. Get him on the line.”

Woman: “Whom may I say is calling?”

Lasorda: “(Inaudible gurgling).”

Cresse: “What’s up, Skip?”

Lasorda: “Your job, Beach, unless you can get a pitcher warmed up fast. What’s with the crazy phone stuff?”

Cresse: “We’ve been getting so many nuisance calls, so we went computer. It makes us a lot more cost-efficient and allows us to spend more time concentrating on the game.”

Lasorda: “I can tell. I see one guy working a crossword puzzle, two guys flipping pebbles into a paper cup and one guy taking a nap.”

Cresse: “Stress management, Tom. Creative tension alleviation. Who would you like us to heat up?”

Lasorda: “The lawn mower man. The outfield grass has grown two inches since I started trying to reach you clowns. Get Crews up, and fast.”

Cresse: “Uh, he’s on a break right now. I’ll activate his beeper. Let me put you on hold.”

Lasorda: “Beeper? Hold? Guerrero’s at bat! Bases loaded!”

From home plate: “CRAAAACK!” (ash meeting horsehide).

Lasorda (weeping softly): %&+.

Beatles: “Day after day, alone on a hill . . . “