A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a guest post for Peachwater, Texas. I’m not sure how many people clicked through, but I get the feeling from talking to Jeff (Peachwater’s webmaster) that it wasn’t many. The topic of the post is close to my heart, so I’m taking this opportunity to republish it here, with a few minor revisions. Even if you don’t entirely identify with this particular experience of mine, maybe you will at least find it interesting or entertaining.

In the summer of 1994, I moved from Greenville (a city in Northeast Texas) to the city of Austin. I was 22 years old, full of angst and devoid of hope. I intended to stay for three months and then return to Greenville. I had been attending East Texas State University for three semesters, and for a change of scenery I decided to transfer to The University of Texas at Austin. That was a monumental decision for me. To explain exactly how I felt about the transfer, and about life in general at the time, would drive readers away from this site out of maddening boredom. Suffice it to say that I felt all alone in the world, with no real home and with no friend who understood me.

So I transferred—another epic ordeal whose explanation would drive readers away. I took the step in an attempt to improve my lot in life, but I still felt empty and isolated. Registration at UT was done by phone at the time, so I figured out what classes I needed and made the call. I expected that the automated registration system would engender the same sort of frustration and phone-banging that most of them do, so I prepared myself mentally, knowing the process would take only 30 minutes at most. I was entirely unprepared for what actually happened.

When I called, I didn’t even hear a tone indicating the ringing of a phone on the other end. I just heard a soft click, and the kindest, most generous grandfatherly voice in the world say, "Welcome to TEX, the Telephone Enrollment eXchange for The University of Texas at Austin. TEX is now registering classes for the…fall semester." Although TEX was an acronym for the phone registration system, not one student in the 50,000 at UT thought of TEX as a program. TEX was a person. He was a gentle old soul who guided and supported us all in some of the most stressful times in a difficult education. The inevitable mid-sentence pauses that occur with automated phone systems added distinctiveness to his personality rather than drawing attention to the fact that he was merely a recording.

Take for instance the way he would let you know that a particular class was added to your schedule. He would say, "Class…number……3…1…5…1…5………has been added." In the silence between the final number and the ultimate verdict, your mind raced with possibilities. Will the class be added? Will I have to try a different section? Will I have to find a completely different class? What’s going to become of the rest of my life?! But TEX always offered reassurance in the way only he could. That pregnant pause never failed to raise my fears, and TEX never failed to calm them. This always happened in spite of the fact that when a class was full, he would simply say "This class was not added" without repeating the five-digit number. Even then, he softened the blow with a simultaneously apologetic and encouraging tone.

I can’t really explain the effect that voice has on those who hear it. The soft central Texas drawl combined with statesmanlike intonations just make you feel like you had an ally in your registration efforts. And he ended every phone call with the eternally comforting words, "Good-bye and…good luck." Though TEX will be disconnected on Friday, July 15, I will hear those words in my mind until the day I die.

If you’re so inclined, you can give TEX one last call at (512) 475-9950.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, July 26th, 2005 at 8:13 pm and is filed under Off-Topic. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.