The Boston Fart Incident of 2009, and Why I May Move to Wyoming

If you're not into potty humor, you may want to skip this one. The point of this posting is not to tell adolescent fart jokes; it's just the honest to God true story of an incident that occurred last Tuesday on my way to work. And the incident happens to revolve around a fart. I didn't go out asking for this to happen to me. It just did.

Here's what happened. Tuesday, 8:05 AM. I was on the orange line on my way to work, sitting on the subway, reading a book, minding my own business like I've been doing every weekday for the past seven years. My seat was at the end of the row, right next to the door. The car was crowded. And then, out of nowhere, my whole world was shaken. I heard something that sounded like a fart. Didn't think anything of it. There are lots of noises on the train. But then the smell. Unmistakable. The guy standing next to me had farted in my face. Not just near me, in the general vicinity. In my face. My nose couldn't have been more than three inches from his ass.

My internal dialogue went something like this: "OK. Don't panic. Stay cool. Take a deep breath. No, wait. Don't breathe. You have to breathe. OK, breathe through your mouth. It's just a fart. Farts happen all the time. Can you catch something from breathing in someone else's fart? Does it matter how close you are to it? No, that's ridiculous. You only catch things from fluids and coughs. This is gross but not dangerous. Just wait for it to pass. Your stop is coming up soon. What kind of person blows a fart right directly into someone's face. I can't believe this is happening to me."

Obviously, I lived to tell the tale. Not a stellar way to start a day, but I'm mostly OK. Part of the reason I was OK is that I was about to go on vacation to a dude ranch in Wyoming. The Gros Ventre River Ranch. One of the most beautiful, peaceful, wonderful places I've ever been. When you know that you'll soon be transported to paradise, you can hang on, even in the face of disaster. Even when someone farts right in your face.

All of this got me thinking that in Wyoming, I bet it's pretty rare for someone to fart in another person's face. This is a city phenomenon. Wyoming has a population density of 5.4 people per square mile. In Boston, it's 12,561. When a fart is released in Wyoming, by the time it wafts over to the other 4.4 people in the square mile surrounding the emitter, it's been dispersed by the fresh mountain air breezing off of the Grand Teton mountains and, before another human being even detects it, its molecules have returned to the earth through whatever ecological life cycle it is that governs farts. Not so on the subway. Forget a square mile. The 100 or so people breathing the same stagnant, hermetically sealed air in the 200 square feet of a subway car are going to feel the effects of a fart.

The larger issue is that, if you're going to surround yourself with other human beings, you're going to have to live with all of the good, bad and ugly of human being-ness. Humans obviously have more to offer than just farts. Love, compassion, dialogue, intellect and art are a few things that come immediately to mind. So despite the ever-present risk that people around you might fart, there are still a number of powerful reasons why it's fun to seek them out. And to take advantage of all the good stuff humans have to offer, it's easier sometimes if you have lots of people near you to choose from. Let's say I want to go out for Indian food with someone and talk about bebop jazz. If I'm in Boston, at least a few of the 12,561 people in the square mile around me would probably be interested. If I were in Wyoming, I might have to walk 50 miles just to find one person who wanted to talk about bebop jazz and then who knows how many more miles to find an Indian restaurant. It could take all summer.

So there's the conundrum. Cities, packed with lots of people, each with lots to offer, certainly have their advantages. But, from a purely statistical standpoint, if you live your life in a city, chances are, at one point or another, someone is going to fart right in your face. I can't wait for my trip to Wyoming next week. I've always been aware of the natural beauty of the place, but when I step off the plane next Sunday and fill my lungs with the clean, wonderful Wyoming mountain air, I will be more appreciative than ever before.

Press Seven If You’re About To Seriously Lose Your Shit

A few days ago, in the middle of the workday, I thought my next door officemate was being beaten and tortured. I heard him saying, then yelling, No! NOOOOOO! I jumped up and was about to run to his rescue when I figured out what was happening. He was now screaming EXXISSTINNNG ACCCOUNNNNT! CUSSSTOMERRR SEERRRRRVICE REPRESSENTATIVVVVE! Aha. Trapped in automated telephonic customer service hell. Been there. Oh yes.

Like any technology, automated phone systems are continually evolving beasts. These systems have, depending on which end of the phone line you're on, either revolutionized the efficiencies of client solution delivery or been one more straw on the camel's back of the downfall of civilized society. Back in the prehistoric days of customer service, circa, let's say, 1975, one of the pre-recorded options was, if you had a rotary phone (remember those, from back when the term "dial" a number was not a misnomer?) and could not make a selection, to stay on the line and a customer service rep would be right with you. What an innocent time that was. Of course, abuse of this system by touch-tone telephone-owning scofflaws became rampant. Everyone waited for a customer service representative.

During telephonic customer service phase 2.0, you could almost always "press zero at any time to speak with a customer service representative." This, of course, didn't last long. However stupid the average consumer may be, people figured out pretty quickly how easy it was to bypass the whole automated system. During the next phase, if you chose a number that wasn't an option, like by just hitting zero fifty times right at the beginning of the recording, you were punished by being transferred back to the original menu or, on especially draconian networks, hung up on. This was a sort of passive aggressive way for a company to say "yeah, you wish asshole; try again." Next, consumers came to understand that they would have to just listen to all the choices and choose the one that sounded least irrelevant or, in trying to emerge victorious in this game theory warfare scenario, the one that sounded most likely to require intervention by an actual person. Websites started to sprout up (check out: www.gethuman.com) that would give callers the secret roadmap to a customer service rep. Just call the toll free number, then hit 3-3-5-2-7-0-0-0-0-1-1-6-4-7-7-7-8-2-2-2-2-2-2 and 6 and voila! You'll be in the queue for the next rep. About ten years ago, one of the options on National Discount Brokers' phone network was to "press four to hear a duck quack." If you pressed four, sure enough, there it was. Quack. That was awesome. One of the high points in the history of automated telephone systems. (Sadly, this seems to have been discontinued; the number with the duck option now takes to you a TD Bank directory).

And then finally came the current incarnation - voice recognition. Initially, you had to just speak the numbers you otherwise would type – “THREE… THREE… FIVE… TWO...” That didn't feel like a major breakthrough. Now you can say what you want - "customer service," "new account," "check my balance" – and, in theory at least, get some relevant, useful information. The voices that guide you through the process have become steadily more friendly-sounding and contemplative. A long way from the scary, tinny computerized War Games voices from years past ("wooulld you liiike to playy a gaaame?"). The pre-programmed voices now say things like "Hmmm" and "OK, I think I understand your question" like you're getting some truly individualized personal validation and support. We're probably not far off from "wow, that is really a terrific question; let me just meditate on that for a bit; any chance you're free for a drink later tonight, or you maybe wanna swing by my place..." My pharmacy recently started transmitting a strangely satisfying bubble-wrap-popping sound while the disembodied voice contemplated which particular rep might best be able to address my needs. It's maybe supposed to be an aural depiction of what it sounds like when a computer really racks its brain.

Of course, replacing typed numbers with screamed commands doesn't mean there are actually any more helpful options at the end of the customer service matrix. One time in twenty, a person's question can legitimately be answered by an automated response. The rest of the time coworkers around the world have to suffer through hearing their office mates broadcast the minutiae of their lives through the halls. "Hepatitis C… SEEEE… HEEPPATITIS SEEEEEE…" "Speak with Doctor… Yes… Discharge… No... Festering… FESTTTERRRING AND OOZY DISCHARRRRGE..." "Erection... ERECTION... No... Yes... YES... More than four hours... MOOORRE THAN FOURRRR HOURRRSS…"

The larger question is whether any of the this evolving technology has actually made life any more efficient. My sense is that it's a wash. For completely routine transactions where you really don't need to talk to a person, you probably do save a few minutes every time you use an automated system. But then, when you have an issue that is one tiny molecule shy of entirely standard, you give back all of those accrued efficiencies. I promise not to tell you the painfully long story of why I have bought my cable modem three times over and yet am still renting it from Comcast. It all relates to the fact that I just cannot stand the idea of trying to explain on the phone what happened. "Press seven if you moved, took a cable modem with you that you thought was yours but actually was not, paid to buy it, had a delivery guy check the box saying that he had given you a new modem when he actually didn't and now are being billed to rent the modem you've already bought multiple times" is not an option. And, as much as companies have tried to suck every cell of humanity out of their call center employees, they're still human beings in the end and don't generally react well when you say something like "look, I am one hundred percent positive that you are not going to understand the problem I'm having so can we just skip the part where I even try to explain it to you and you just transfer me to your supervisor?"

Is it better to have lots of small daily efficiencies but then have to take three days off of work to deal with changing your cell phone calling plan or to have a steady stream of inefficiencies spread out over a longer period of time? There's definitely something to be said for the latter. You don't hear about people going off the deep end after having to hold for an extra 30 seconds for an operator. On the other hand - and I'm not saying I'm going to do this, just that I understand the mindset - I can see how someone who has just spent all afternoon screaming at a computer-generated voice "I HAVE ALLREADDY BOUGHT MY CAAABBBLE MODEMM THREEEEE TIIIIIIMMMES!!!!!" might run out the door with an automatic weapon and spray a stream of bullets into a crowd of schoolchildren.

Maybe it would be better, societally, for consumers to be subject to continuous, low levels of mild inconvenience and frustration than concentrated, extreme levels. Maybe we should all call our senators to express our concern over this issue. Of course, maybe even senators have telephone routing systems. I hope they're able to process the request, "I AM CONCERRNNNED THAT AUTOMMMATTED PHOONE SYSTEMMS ARE GOOINGG TO MAKE ME LOOOSEE MY SHIIIIIIITTTT."