Friday, May 1, 2020

The past is a foreign country

They do things differently there.

ASM826 has been posting about the Lost America.  He posts about lost factories, but there's so much more..For example, they have operators that connect your call, rather than direct dial:

Of course, that calls to mind obsolete humor: "We're the Telephone company.  We don't have to care."  But they sure do know security:

And a note to anyone who is 40 years old or younger: yes, this was a thing.  It was a thing so thingy that it became one of the classic songs of the 1970s:

... with my best old ex-friend Ray ...

... Thank you for your time.  You've been so much more than kind.  You can keep the dime ...

They were Giants in those days.


LindaG said...

I remember all of those. And the 5 digit phone numbers. :-)

Ed Bonderenka said...

There is a world that exists only in my imagination.
I can touch it and smell it and even taste it.
There are buildings I can enter, with people I may or may not know.
My parents are there.
But when I drive there, the buildings have been razed.
There is no indication the place ever was.
The streets are renamed, even re-routed.
Was it ever there?
Am I even here :)

chris said...

The story behind the song is pretty cool (or sad). Croce overheard almost the exact words from the conversation while in the army waiting his turn to use the payphone.

McChuck said...

Once upon a time, I needed advice from the IRS. So I searched through the blue pages (remember those?), and found their number.

I called it, and somebody answered with a very confused "Hello?" We spoke for a moment, and then they hung up on me.

I called again. A different person answered, still with a remarkably confused "Hello?" They, too, almost immediately hung up on me.

I called a third time. A third person answered, a bit less confused. "Hello, who is this? How did you get this number?"

"I found this number in the phone book. I need help with a question about line such and so."

"This isn't the help desk. This is the phone in the elevator. Call number ### instead."

And then there was the time Autovon was being replaced, and I somehow got patched through from Berlin to the NSA's intercom system.