The Irritations of Modern Life

37. BT Call Minder by James McNair

CALL MINDER. Two little words which conjure up an image of a beneficent helper who polices your incoming calls with conscientious rigour. In theory, BT's digital answering service should provide easy access to your messages via one-word verbal cues. The truth, I've found, is that the virtual secretary who mans this service is a fickle person whose ears need syringing.

"You have two messages - would you like to hear them?" she intones with automaton coolness. I would, of course, so I pronounce the requisite "yes", taking care to enunciate clearly. (Over-sibilant consonants can play havoc.) "Message received at 15.21 today," she continues. "Would you like to play that message?"

I spit another "Yes", and there's a pregnant pause: four or five seconds of ambient crackle which I've come to associate with cobweb-blasting synapses in Ms Minder's pea-sized brain. "You have now reviewed your call options," she eventually states, ignoring my request.

I think it might be my accent. I've noticed that she seems to get on well enough with my English flatmate. My own more guttural, Scottish tones seem to bring out the political prisoner in her.

Recently, while away, I tried to access my messages using our unique four-digit Call Minder code. We'd recently been given a new code for security purposes, and when I tried to check in using the old one, I was denied access. On my return, Call Minder informed me that someone had tried to pick up our messages using the wrong code. "That'll be me," I thought. I suppose I should have been grateful, but something in the smugness of her tone annoyed me.