Not for the Faint of Heart : There’s an Iguana in My Dishwasher . . . and Other Tales of Terror From Consumer Hot Lines

The woman calling the Pillsbury hot line wants to know if she should use the high-altitude recipe on the cake box now that she lives in a 14th-floor apartment.

The guy phoning General Electric’s Answer Center needs help freeing a pet iguana trapped inside a dishwasher.

Meanwhile, on Beano’s anti-flatulence 1-800 number, a businessman rings because someone left a note on his desk instructing him to dial about “a gas leak.”

Each year, millions of calls like these zip across telephone wires to toll-free hot lines for such products as Spam, Crest, Twinkies and Cheez Whiz.

Answering them is a strange and often difficult business.

Although most callers lob harmless questions about ingredients or nutrition, operators also come up against perverts, pranksters, complainers and con artists.

“This isn’t [a job] for the faint of heart,” says Nancy Friedman, a consultant and trainer who dubs herself the Telephone Doctor. “They get all sorts of weird things.”

Nevertheless, more companies are relying on toll-free lines for a competitive edge. The trend is also spreading overseas, with sometimes disastrous results.

Even in the United States, telephones are a relatively new fixture in consumer affairs. For decades, recipe requests, complaints--even marriage proposals for Betty Crocker--were handled almost exclusively by mail.

The granddaddy of toll-free product numbers emerged at Whirlpool, which christened its “Cool Line” in 1967, the year AT&T; introduced 800 service.

Inaugurated with just a handful of operators--who spent much of their time fielding calls from people simply curious to see what 800 service was all about--the Whirlpool line has since ballooned into a 24-hour mini-conglomerate with 360 employees in two cities taking 3.6 million inquiries a year.

Inevitably, a few folks phone in on Christmas just to see if operators really are standing by, which they are. (Some even cook their holiday dinners with the appliances kept on hand to help trouble-shoot customer questions).

Other toll-free numbers enjoy similar popularity. Procter & Gamble, which entered the 1-800 arena in 1974 with a Duncan Hines brownie mix hot line, now receives nearly 3 million contacts a year on more than 100 products (calls are routed to specialists in bar soaps, food and beverages, beauty care and other categories).

G.E. picks up the telephone 3.5 million times annually, Coca-Cola and Pillsbury log about 500,000 calls apiece.

Even seemingly uncomplicated products draw calls. The James River Corp., which produces Northern toilet paper, gets about 36,000 inquiries a year, many of which ask, “What’s the correct way to unroll toilet tissue--from the top or the bottom?” (Their answer: There is no right or wrong way.) Other consumers claim to eat the T.P. for fiber content; a few report sightings of the company’s fictional Brawny paper towel man.

People also phone with historical questions (no, Fig Newtons aren’t named for Sir Isaac Newton; they’re named after Newton, Mass.), chemistry conundrums (mint Lifesavers emit sparks of light if you chew them in the dark because of a reaction between the wintergreen flavoring and crystalline sugar) and accidental discoveries (Efferdent denture cleanser dissolves toilet stains).

It isn’t easy to fluster hot-line operators. Armed with computerized company manuals and weeks of specialized training, many are fonts of product trivia.

One legendary General Electric technician even diagnosed a mysterious refrigerator noise by having the customer hold the phone up to the appliance.

Some calls, however, are simply too bizarre to anticipate:

* A gentleman phoning Miller beer wanted to buy a dress that was hanging from a clothesline in one of the company’s commercials. (It turned out to be an enlarged photograph of a doll outfit.)

* A Windex caller wondered if the cleaner was harmful to reptiles (he had mistaken it for a water bottle and sprayed his pet lizards). Answer: The animals would be safe (not to mention streak-free).

* A woman dialed Coca-Cola offering to mortgage her house to buy a date with the hunky actor who peels off his shirt in a diet Coke ad. (The company declined.)

* G.E. has fielded consumer questions on whether it’s OK to drink the water from a dehumidifier (it isn’t) or use refrigerator racks to barbecue (no again).

Running a hot line isn’t cheap. Salaries alone--which average about $22,000 per operator--can push costs into the millions for a call center with 50 or more employees. But many companies find it a worthwhile investment.

A 1992 survey found that two-thirds of American manufacturers had consumer 800 numbers, up from 40% a decade earlier.

Colgate-Palmolive Vice President Grace Richardson says telephone correspondence is cheaper than answering mail--and it builds customer loyalty.

When Palmolive shoppers complained that they couldn’t squeeze the last dab out of a liquid dishwasher detergent bottle, the company devised a gel formula and sent free samples to all who called.

“In a time when people feel corporations are big and [uncaring],” Richardson says, “it’s important to let them know that what they tell us really does matter.”

Hot lines also offer unusual insights. Beano, for example, compiled a list of “gassiest dogs” by tracking queries to its canine anti-flatulence number.

And some food companies have started rewriting recipes after getting calls from customers who fail to grasp that a 9-by-13 baking pan is the same as a 13-by-9 one and that egg whites are not egg shells.

Miller Brewing uses caller information to zero in on production problems. By deciphering the code number stamped on a beer can, operators can tell which plant the product came from and the 15-minute time period in which it was packaged.

(Alas, not every caller can figure out such hieroglyphics. One Colgate operator who asked for a product’s UPC bar code got this for an answer: “Thick bar, thin bar, medium, thin. . . .”)

Not all companies are sold on the hot-line concept. Officials at Heinz U.S.A. and Fullerton-based Hunt-Wesson, for instance, say responding by mail is usually a better bet.

Toll-free numbers can triple the number of complaints a company receives, according to a study by Technical Assistance Research Programs.

“It’s a cattle call for consumers,” says Deb Magness, a Heinz spokeswoman. “You have to be careful what you wish for.”

Consultant Friedman also warns of pitfalls. Some people are lonely and will dial “any number they can” just to talk, she says.

Others yell at operators or try to take advantage of the system by phoning every two or three months for free coupons or merchandise.

Another problem is the sheer volume of calls. A typical operator handles 50 to 70 a day, sometimes double that, companies say.

“There’s no time to unwind or relax,” Friedman says. “Operators hear a beep on their headsets and the call just comes in.”

In fact, one study ranked customer-service operators fourth on a list of stressful occupations, right behind air-traffic controllers, inner-city schoolteachers and cops.

It doesn’t help that occasionally the calls are obscene or pranks.

Things are even worse overseas.

In Great Britain, counselors are routinely brought in to help operators cope with the high percentage of nasty calls. “There are some weird people out there and if you are on the receiving end, it can be very stressful,” a Coca-Cola representative told the Financial Times last year.

Germany and France also report “a huge volume” of prank calls, mostly from children entranced by the novelty of toll-free service, says Colgate-Palmolive’s Richardson.

But a solution to the verbal abuse problem may be at hand.

On its Dinner Sensations product, General Mills has rolled out the next phase in consumer affairs service: a computer e-mail address.