It is not everyday that an Indian American gets chosen to be part of the prestigious New York Philharmonic (NYP). Thirty-year-old Vivek Kamath is that rarity. A violist with a degree in music, Kamath is a seven-year veteran of the NYP. He studied with former Cleveland Quartet first violinist Donald Weilerstein at the Cleveland Institute of Music, where he earned his bachelor’s degree. In 1997, he was a prizewinner in the Washington International String Competition as well as the Irving Klein International String Competition.
An avid chamber musician, he has performed with the New York Philharmonic Chamber Ensembles, Bargemusic, the Prometheus Chamber Players, the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center, as well as at festivals Marlboro, Bridgehampton, Arcady, Ravinia, Blossom, Bowdoin and Sarasota.
When I call my telephone or credit card company, I can never speak to a human immediately. For some reason, the humans are always busy with other customers, and I have to listen to a machine tell me something like this: "Please stay on the line. Your call is important to us. So important that we'll try our best to speak to you within the next year or so."
Determined to speak to a human, I stay on the line for an eternity, carrying the phone around with me - to the kitchen, bedroom and bathroom - hoping that I won't have to take a shower with it.
My phone has lots of useful features, but I don't think it's waterproof. And even if it was, I wouldn't feel comfortable speaking on the phone when I'm undressed. I just don't trust technology. I have this image of the telephone company's employees viewing my every move through a tiny camera.
"Attention female employees, if you gather around the big-screen TV in the main office, you'll see a sight that's guaranteed to make you laugh. Yes, one of our male customers is taking a shower. He doesn't look like Mel Gibson or Hrithik Roshan, but we voyeurs can't be too choosy. As you can see, our technicians have learned to use some rather impressive equipment to view some rather unimpressive equipment."
But despite this concern, I remain on the line, until the machine has repeated its message at least 260 times and the company has realized that I'm not ready to hang up or die of old age. A human finally takes my call, greeting me with a cheery tone that's almost as annoying as the long wait. "Hello. May I help you?"
"Thank God, a human," I say. "I was beginning to think all the humans had been replaced. Please help me remember why I called. I've been on hold so long I've totally forgotten. And by the way, what year is this? And is George W. Bush still president?"
"I have no idea why you called," the human says. "We're paid to read scripts, not minds. As for your other questions, it's 2003 and George W. Bush quit being president last year. He got tired of giving so many speeches and missing so many episodes of Sesame Street."
The reason I have to wait so long is obvious: companies just don't employ enough humans to answer their phones. They prefer using machines, partly because machines never get paid, never take coffee breaks, and never accuse the boss of sexual harassment.
But some companies, thankfully, are trying to employ more humans, while cutting their costs. They're moving their call centers to a country with a great supply of humans: India.
Yes, India is fast becoming the call center capital of the world. American companies are taking advantage of India's large pool of educated and English-speaking humans. And it's not because these Indians are willing to work for peanuts. Even better, they're willing to work for rupees.
For the cost of employing one overworked American, a company can employ five overjoyed Indians.
Before answering calls from America, these employees are required to not only speak with an American accent, but also learn about American culture, perhaps by watching several episodes of "Jerry Springer."
They're also expected to Americanize their names. If they're Siddhartha or Suchitra at home, they become Sid or Sue at work. In other words, they're just like many Indians in America.
Some callers may not like the idea of speaking to Indians impersonating Americans. As for me, I have no complaints. As long as I get to speak to a human, I don't care who answers my call - an Indian, an Australian, an Eskimo.
