Customer Service Pre-computer

 

In the olden days of the 1980s when computers were uncommon, my housemate and myself decided to start a typing service. We were in walking distance of 10 universities, and by contacting professors it did not take long for them to arrive at our door with their handwritten blue-lined yellow sheets of reports, articles and books.

Some were orderly. Others suggested hieroglyphic studies might be needed. There would be numbers in the writing matching corresponding scraps of paper with inserts or notes. 

We lived in a Boston town house under renovation although the first floor was more or less complete. 

We rented an IBM proportional spacing typewriter and invested in a number of "golf balls" which meant we could offer our clients various type faces. 

All was going well until our typewriter rental company said they were replacing the machine with a different model. Our "golf balls" no longer fit. We offered to buy the old machine on time payments.

They said no.

We refused to return the machine. They got nasty.

I wrote the CEO of IBM. Emails did not exist. I explained we were two single women running a small business on a shoestring. All we wanted was to keep a typewriter that was working for us perfectly and not have to go to the expenditure of replacing the "golf balls." 

A few days later the door bell rang. Two men in suits handed us their cards. They were both IBM vice presidents sent by the CEO from New York.

I can't remember if we served coffee or not, but we explained the situation. They used our phone (no mobiles) to make a phone call.

"You can keep the typewriter." He meant "keep it." It was ours, no longer a rental.

As they left, they asked us one thing. "If you have another problem, contact us directly. Please, please, don't write the CEO."

We promised. The door closed.

We could only imagine what they had to say about a taking a day out of their schedules and two plane rides to solve a diddly squat problem for two women.

A few minutes later, our Japanese chin walked into the room, a used tampon hanging from his mouth. We were so grateful he had not appeared a few minutes before.