I prefer to write humor. Life is so much easier if we look at the bright side. But, alas, nostalgia has overtaken me recently.

I've been giving considerable thought to the days when CEOs actually earned their exorbitant salaries. When we each were held accountable for our actions. When cars lasted until they were paid for, and the costs of health care and prescriptions were low enough that those of us on fixed incomes could afford them. But mostly I've been nostalgic for customer service—something that has become almost obsolete.

A little-known fact is that Customer Service Week is celebrated annually the first week of October. It passed us by last fall without any signs of detection. Could it be that word isn't spreading fast enough?

A number of people I've encountered recently are showing distinct displeasure because so many conglomerates have opened service centers in foreign countries. When you dial a customer service number for Sprint, you're likely to reach a young man or woman in India. These customer service providers speak English, are trained to answer common questions, and provide a false name (we might not speak as freely to a Prabha as to a Jennifer).

I've been fortunate enough to tour India, and I know what a godsend this is to the livelihood of people there. The young men and women working for a U.S. corporation in India earn significantly more than they would at most jobs available to them, while the corporation saves.

The downsides are that it doesn't seem to save the consumer any money, and that these jobs are lost to American workers, who would otherwise be contributing to the economy of our own country. But it certainly helps boost the bottom line for that phone company and the others that do likewise.

That aside, my point is, how can "Jennifer" help if your question is, "What time will the technician be here? I've been waiting three hours." How would Jennifer/Prabha know?

My husband's sister-in-law in southern California, who had been a satisfied customer of Direct TV for six years, decided to change cable companies. She wasn't happy with the new company, canceled it, and called the original company again. The installer came on the designated day, but only had equipment on hand for three-fourths of the order. He installed what he had and left, assuring her that he would soon return. That was on Aug. 31. On Sept. 11, she called the company to inquire. Of course there was no shortage of apologies. The following day another technician arrived with a completely different order, one that charged her for the missing equipment from the original order plus labor for the work he was about to do. When she politely insisted there should be no charge, he replied that she would have to call the company again. He needed a corrected order or he wouldn't be paid for his time. No new order, no work.

We arrived for a visit in the midst of this turmoil.

My sister-in-law called the company to explain the situation. The representative asked a few questions. In the course of the conversation, my frustrated sister-in-law asked where the rep was located, to which she answered, "the Caribbean." The Caribbean woman eventually transferred her to another representative. The entire story was repeated four times during that hour of telephone conversation. Each representative was asked her location. The second was in West Virginia, the third in North Carolina, and the fourth said she was in Maryland. The Maryland rep said she would issue a new work order and another technician would be sent the following day. Just a few short years ago, it would have been done right the first time, without all the telephone calls and additional installation visits.

Last night I had a similar experience. Our power went off briefly in the afternoon following a fleeting storm, causing our televisions to go blank while the dish searched for the satellite. The TVs were back on within a few minutes, and I resumed watching Sunday afternoon sports. But when I went to bed early to watch TV, my little bedroom TV still had no service. We tried everything we could think of before calling the toll-free number listed for the cable company. The nice young woman who took my call was as mystified as we were and transferred me to the service department. Incidentally, she readily volunteered that she was in the Philippines.

The helpful woman in the service department, who was able to solve our problem, was in Montana. Since I was by then irate, I asked why this American company had an office in the Philippines answering service calls. Her answer was in two parts:

1. She was glad the office in the Philippines was back on line. They had endured a recent earthquake, causing the Montana office to be overwhelmed.
2. Her little Montana town had suffered extensive unemployment until Direct TV opened a service center there. Now everyone who wanted to work had a job.

I was happy with the second part of her response. They were helping our American economy prosper.

I don't have the mathematical knowledge of an Alan Greenspan or a Ben Bernanke, but it doesn't take an economist to know that an operation like that can't be cost-effective. It makes me wonder how much lower our monthly cable bill would be if a nationwide company had customer service representatives in the area where the work is being done—people who were familiar with and could actually converse with the installing technicians.

In reality, this kind of customer service is costing consumers in time and money while allowing the corporate executives to earn ridiculously high salaries.

We know the customer isn't always right. But in the old days, the company made every effort to make us happy because they wanted to keep our business. You might recall that even the so-called "monopoly" companies considered good customer service a priority. (Southwestern Bell comes to mind.) Now it doesn't seem to matter whether we're satisfied with a company's service or not, as long as we pay the bill.

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