Kafka

My 8:30 flight to Portland this morning was supposed to be a one-stop with a 30-minute layover in L.A. I took a cab to the airport, and got there earlier than I had planned, around 7 :00 a.m. So when I checked in at the automated kiosk, I was offered the option of taking an earlier flight - either through Salt Lake or through Phoenix - for a $50 surcharge.

It was tempting (why spend more time in the airport than you need to?), but the Phoenix option actually arrived in Portland later than my original itinerary and the Salt Lake option left at 8:20, only 10 minutes earlier than my L.A. flight. Since neither option seemed worth the $50, I checked in using my original routing.

But after I got my boarding passes and was going through security, I saw that the L.A. flight was listed as now departing 10 minutes later than originally scheduled. This concerned me, as my experience is that when a flight starts on that slippery slope of postponement and delays, 10 minutes becomes 30, and 30 minutes becomes an hour and a half. Plus I only had a 30 minute turn in L.A. to start with, and every second's delay increased my chances of missing my connection. So at that point, I regretted not having selected the Salt Lake option for $50.

But not a problem - I'm resourceful. After I got through security, I proceeded to the Delta ticket counter in Concourse A, explained my situation and requested the $50 route change after all.

However, the ticket agent didn't understand me at all. At first, she thought I was asking for a class upgrade (wrong), and then thought I was trying to change my destination (also wrong). She explained to me that the L.A. flight hadn't been cancelled (yet) and that Delta didn't owe me an alternative if there was no cancellation. I told her I understood that the flight hadn't been cancelled, but was concerned about making my already-tight connection since the flight is being delayed.

But then she claimed she never heard of an option to take an earlier flight on a different route for a fee. Who told me about this? When I told her (again) that it was an option offered by the automated kiosk at check in, she seemed dubious and asked another agent, who agreed that she never heard of any such thing either.

"Look," I explained, "I'm just trying to get to my destination, and the first leg of my flight is being delayed. Is there any way I can take another flight, like the 8:20 to Salt Lake?"

She looked at her monitor, stroked a few keys, and said that the cost difference between my original flight and what I was asking for was $525. This seemed outrageous, especially considering my original ticket was already about $1,000. But if I wanted to fly to Portland via Salt Lake instead of L.A., it appeared that I would have to come up with an additional $525, not pay a mere $50 fee.

My indecision at the kiosk, it seemed, was going to cost me $475.

I told her this was outrageous and sounded like classic bait-and-switch marketing. I told her I didn't understand how an offer made 20 minutes ago was now worth almost ten times as much. She finally relented, and said that this one time she'll make an exception and go ahead and book me through Salt Lake for a $50 fee, but even though I thanked her, the look on her face suggested that I didn't fully appreciate the extent of her generosity.

The flight was completely full, but amazingly I managed to get an aisle seat, anyway. The final leg to Portland was also an aisle seat and this time at an exit row, so I had the additional leg room as well. And the 60 minute layover in Salt Lake gave me enough time to use the bathroom and get a little lunch.

With the time changes, I got to Portland by 1:30 pm, early enough to get some productive work done at the office. So all in all, not a bad day and every thing worked out as well as could be expected, but the stubbornness and the lack of communication with the ticket agent soured me for much of the day.

This wasn't my first heat-butt with bureaucracy the past few days. Last Saturday, while I was still back in Atlanta, I stopped at the Post Office to pick up the mail I was having held (since I'm scheduled to be in Portland for an extended visit, I had my mail held at the Post Office, rather than leave it in the mailbox for thieves to rifle through). But after first going to the wrong Post Office (the one only two blocks from my house - I should have known it couldn't have been that easy), and then second-guessing the instructions given to me and winding up at a second wrong Post Office (my bad), I wound up at a signless bulk postal facility on the industrial side of town, recognizable only by the presence of mail trucks behind the building.

I managed to find the customer window (actually a dutch door) but it wasn't easy (did I mention there were no signs?), and of course it was closed but there was a doorbell-type button with a sign warning "RING ONLY ONCE!" I did as instructed and waited, and it didn't take too long for the top half of the dutch door to open. I explained to the postal agent that I was there to pick up my mail, and she took my driver's licence (proof of residence), closed the door on me, and then proceeded to answer a ringing phone on the other side of the door.

She left me waiting there all alone outside the door while she tried to find the person the caller was looking for, and then I could hear a long conversation about what the caller was trying to do, her advise and instructions to the caller and so on and so forth. Finally, at one point in the conversation, the dutch door opened again and she handed me a bundle of mail, and immediately swung the door shut while still on the telephone but without a word to me.

Fine. I finally got what I came for. But the trouble was she had also handed me the "Hold Mail" instruction sheet and I was concerned that without that sheet, my mail would start being delivered again while I was back in Portland. Since I could still hear her voice talking on the phone right on the other side of the closed dutch door, I rang the "RING ONLY ONCE!" doorbell again.

She opened the door with the phone still to her ear, looking none too pleased to see me again. I handed her the "Hold Mail" instruction sheet and mouthed that I wanted to talk to her. She wrapped up the telephone conversation - "I got to go, there's someone here with some sort of problem" - and when I explained my concern to her, she confirmed it - picking up my mail ended the "Hold Mail" process, and she couldn't just put the original sheet, which stated that the mail was to be held through March 15, back where she had found it. That apparently would have been too simple. My options were to either take my mail and resume delivery, or return my mail and the instruction sheet to her, and come back for it on March 15.

"Look," she told me, "you can't just go having your mail held for no reason. Something bad's got to have happened to have your mail held." I doubt it works like bereavement leave, but knew arguing wouldn't solve my problem. I explained to her that I was on an extended business trip and wanted my mail held because my mail's been stolen before, but found myself unexpectedly home and would like to pick up the mail that I could before I completed my trip.

She wasn't sympathetic, but closed the door again saying "Wait there." Five minutes later, she returned with a new "Hold Mail" request form, and looked for a pen that I could use. I filled out the form with the borrowed pen and when I was done she accepted but first wanted me to sign where it acknowledged receipt of the held mail. I told her that I signed the acknowledgement on the old form, but this form was for the mail to be held and I couldn't acknowledge receipt of what I hadn't yet received. For a minute or two, she seemed eager to engage me in a new argument, but then relented when the telephone rang again giving her something better to do and she closed the door on me again. I left, not completely sure as to whether my mail will continued to be held or will be delivered on Monday morning.

Why have these things become so difficult? Why do routine bureaucratic tasks (holding mail, changing flights) now require us to perform the Kafkaesque task of explaining ourselves to uncaring and disinterested but dubious clerks? I'm willing to accept 50% of the blame here (these confrontations wouldn't occur if I weren't asking for something), but whatever happened to client service? To service with a smile?

Whatever happened to service?

Whatever happened to smiles?

Whatever happened to clients?