DOMO June 2013 pdf - Ringier

TRIBUTE
Ringier Publishing, Hello.
What would Ringier be without its telephone operators?
A company without calling cards! The clients’
first contact with a company is still of crucial importance
– even though the Internet and e-mails are gradually
drowning out those charming voices. A tribute by
Helmut-Maria Glogger.
Photos: Raja Läubli, Zoran Loncarevic, Vlad Chirea, Pavel Hofman
What can I do? I’m working
abroad; the Internet isn’t working
and my iPhone can’t find a signal.
All that remains is a ramshackle pay
phone. I call +41 44 259 62 62, and a
familiar voice answers: «Ringier
Publishing, Cornelia Kugler». Now I
know that my 1,200th column headed
«Glogger e-mails...» will reach the
desk of Blick am Abend’s editor-inchief
Peter Röthlisberger on time by
10.30 a.m.
What would companies do without
their telephone operators? Words like
«no» or «need» are not part of their
vocabulary. They pick up the phone
after the third ring, at the latest; they
carefully register complaints and
accept justified criticism with courtesy
and thanks. Operating the
switchboard used to be a menial task,
but nowadays talking on the telephone
is considered a skill that requires
proper training. A capable
answering service is crucial to any
company’s image. We journalists
know that the operators have our
backs, too. Only now that people can
reach us directly via e-mail or website
comments can we appreciate
how many unfriendly remarks the
operators used to hear on our behalf.
«Put me through to your publisher,
Michael Ringier, at once!» is one of
customers’ comparatively harmless
requests.
The golden age of the switchboard
operator as was depicted on the silver
screen never really existed. The
women did their job using hand
cranks, plugs and earphones, as we
can still see in movie classics like
«Grand Hotel». In the French «Maigret»
series they would connect
people in Paris luxury hotels as well
as at police headquarters on the Quai
des Orfèvres, and say things in dulcet
tones like: «Monsieur le directeur,
your call is coming through
– from London!» In real life their job
was not quite so sweet. Even at the
time, switchboard operators had to
meet high standards. A good education,
impeccable manners and
knowledge of several languages
were indispensable. In addition, the
ladies had to be young, have a good
background, and be single. A husband,
let alone a family, would have
distracted from their duties. Back
then, the Swiss Postal Service paid
for their training, and their salary
allowed the young ladies to enjoy
independence.
For some, the job at the switchboard
did in fact launch a Hollywood-style
career. Elisabeth Mohn was born 71
years ago in Widenbrück, Germany.
Her colleagues at the switchboard in
nearby Gütersloh called her «Liz».
Today, Liz Mohn sits on the board of
one of the world’s biggest media
groups, Bertelsmann. OK, so Liz
Mohn didn’t get to where she is today
just by gracefully saying: «Good
morning, Bertelsmann Publishing
Headquarters in Gütersloh.» She was
also the mistress and later the wife of
Bertelsmann patriarch Reinhard
Mohn (1921 – 2009), who in the fifth
generation transformed the mediumsized
company into one of the biggest
media conglomerates in the world.
Then again, Johanna Quandt wasn’t
born a billionaire, either. She used to
be the switchboard operator of industrial
tycoon Herbert Quandt.
Cornelia Kugler is the last lady to
operate the telephone at Ringier’s
Zurich headquarters on Dufourstrasse.
She speaks fluent English
and French and answers up to 300
phone calls per day. She always remains
unruffled, witty and calm. She
also laughs a lot – about herself,
about us – and she is stoically nice to
everyone, even to callers who are
freaking out because last Saturday’s
lottery numbers have been reprinted
in the current issue of SonntagsBlick.
Good telephone operators remain
invaluable to this day. Who else
would get us out of all our messes in
the future? So if my column should
ever go missing, we will know: Cornelia
Kugler was briefly away from
her desk on the ground floor.
PETRU VASILE,
ROMANIA
«Maybe our phone
lines are to blame,
or our readers are
hard of hearing,
but I often get
asked for our
lottery numbers
and then have to
shout them into
the receiver. Another
oddity is that
Romanians, who
are considered to
be skeptics, often
begin by asking:
Is this really Ringier?»
VALENTINA MILI, SERBIA
«Here’s what strikes me again and again:
When I ask our readers where they’re
calling from, they never tell me which
town. They always say: my house or my
apartment.»
MARIANA BIELIKOVÁ, SLOVAKIA
«People mostly want to know whether
they are the lucky winners of some competition.
One gentleman was irritating
because he wanted to meet me right
away. He thought I was the lady from ‹the
Lonely Hearts› section in Nový Čas.»
CORNELIA KUGLER, SWITZERLAND
«One caller asked me if I had liked his
present. When I asked about the nature
of the gift, it turned out to be a mix-up.
The man had tried to ensure preferential
treatment and a lower tax bill by sending
a bottle of expensive perfume to a female
revenue officer. I had to promise him
on my word of honor never to pass his
story on to Blick’s editorial team.»
DANIELA MAČUROVÁ,
CZECH REPUBLIC
«Most callers ask for back issues of Blesk.
One question really baffled me though:
Where can I find the bread? Our building
is in fact right next to a big supermarket
and the bread aisle is a bit hard to find.»
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