The Busy Signal Predicament

By Philip Elmer-DeWitt

James Hinkle's ordeal began when he ran into a snag while loading a $400 program called Framework into his Kaypro Model 16 computer. He carefully reread the Framework instruction book for guidance but failed to find it. Stymied, the Alameda, Calif., dentist called the service number printed in the manual. The number was busy, but after dialing repeatedly over a period of several hours, Hinkle eventually made the connection--to a recorded message instructing him to call a different number, which was also busy. Says the normally mild-mannered Hinkle: "I started in the morning, and by 3 p.m., when I finally got through, I was screaming at the customer-service lady."

Hinkle's predicament is all too familiar to veteran computer owners. From young people stuck in the mazes of their adventure games to corporate managers whose accounting operations have been brought to a temporary halt, computer users have traditionally turned to the publishers of their software for free advice. Now, as computers proliferate and programs grow more complex, more and more people are jamming manufacturers' phone lines with frantic cries for help.

Often those calls go unanswered. Ashton-Tate, the Torrance, Calif., publisher of Framework, has 42 full-time service representatives who take 1,100 telephone calls a day; Microsoft's 50 operators field 1,800. The current ambitious goal of WordPerfect is to have its 70 support staffers answer at least half of its 1,500 daily calls. Says Adam Osborne, president of Paperback Software: "You have a better chance of winning the lottery than of getting through on some toll-free lines."

The heavy traffic is proving costly to manufacturers. Ashton-Tate, conceding that during peak hours its current staff cannot keep up with the calls, already spends $1.5 million a year on salaries, office expenses and training to provide software advice. Living Videotext in Mountain View, Calif., figures that the net cost of talking to a single user is between $30 and $40 an hour. "If I talk to them twice," says President David Winer, "I'm starting to pay them to use my product."

The high cost of help is especially irksome because many of the calls come from owners of pirated disks, who often do not have manuals. Indeed, better use of the manuals could solve most legitimate owners' problems. MicroPro International estimates that 70% of the customers who dial for help are first- time users who find reaching for the phone easier than wading through pages of instruction. Says MicroPro Manager Lee Lensky: "People don't want to read a manual, whether it's a 300-page tome or a clean, well-written one."

Publishers have adopted a variety of novel techniques to help stem the flood of telephone traffic. Borland International runs a forum on the CompuServe network where customers' questions are answered by either the company's technicians or other CompuServe subscribers. Lotus and Microsoft fill their disks with elaborate help messages that can be called up to the screen the moment a problem arises. Software Publishing, creator of the easy- to-use PFS filing and word-processing programs, refers callers back to their dealers.

Some software manufacturers have begun charging for what they used to provide free. MicroPro still lists its overburdened customer-service number but also offers a $90-per-year premium service contract with an unlisted help line. Bargain-basement software firms like Paperback take credit-card numbers, time calls with a stopwatch and charge customers by the minute. One result: fewer queries. "If people have to pay a few dollars for the phone call," says Osborne, "it's amazing how smart they get."

A few enterprising firms have picked up where the publishers fall short. In January, a San Francisco outfit called the Computer Hand-Holding Co. began offering a $100-per-month service that guarantees personal assistance with 40 popular programs. Micro Support Resource Corp. in Atlanta goes one step further. Its $100 yearly fee entitles subscribers to have their problems solved by an IBM System/36 minicomputer.

Many computer users still resist the idea of paying for help. Says Hand- Holding Founder Emil Flock: "People expect to get billed when they talk to their doctors and lawyers. But when they talk to a technical-support person, they expect it to be free." There are signs, however, that this attitude may be changing. Robert Refvem, for one, happily plunked down $65 for six months of MicroPro's premium service. "I call them up, I get a technician, I'm off and running," says the Burlingame, Calif., real estate agent. Besides, he adds, "it's the only way they'll answer the phone."

With reporting by Scott Brown/Los Angeles