e ending, of the central switching stations, which are
ranked in levels of heirarchy, up to the long-distance electronic
switching stations, which are some of the largest computers on earth.
Let us imagine that it is, say, 1925, before the introduction of
computers, when the phone system was simpler and somewhat easier to
grasp. Let's further imagine that you are Miss Leticia Luthor, a
fictional operator for Ma Bell in New York City of the 20s.
Basically, you, Miss Luthor, ARE the "switching system." You are
sitting in front of a large vertical switchboard, known as a
"cordboard," made of shiny wooden panels, with ten thousand
metal-rimmed holes punched in them, known as jacks. The engineers
would have put more holes into your switchboard, but ten thousand is as
many as you can reach without actually having to get up out of your
chair.
Each of these ten thousand holes has its own little electric lightbulb,
known as a "lamp," and its own neatly printed number code.
With the ease of long habit, you are scanning your board for lit-up
bulbs. This is what you do most of the time, so you are used to it.
A lamp lights up. This means that the phone at the end of that line
has been taken off the hook. Whenever a handset is taken off the hook,
that closes a circuit inside the phone which then signals the local
office, i.e. you, automatically. There might be somebody calling, or
then again the phone might be simply off the hook, but this does not
matter to you yet. The first thing you do, is record that number in
your logbook, in your fine American public-school handwriting. This
comes first, naturally, since it is done for billing purposes.
You now take the plug of your answering cord, which goes directly to
your headset, and plug it into the lit-up hole. "Operator," you
announce.
In operator's classes, before taking this job, you have been issued a
large pamphlet full of canned operator's responses for all kinds of
contingencies, which you had to memorize. You have also been trained
in a proper non-regional, non-ethnic pronunciation and tone of voice.
You rarely have the occasion to make any spontaneous remark to a
customer, and in fact this is frowned upon (except out on the rural
lines where people have time on their hands and get up to all kinds of
mischief).
A tough-sounding user's voice at the end of the line gives you a
number. Immediately, you write that number down in your logbook, next
to th
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