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"Muzak One, Deleted."

Anarchy reigns as studets and classical music collide when Telecom Services' unexplained phenomenon rears its confusing head. The Commentator goes in-depth.

By Sho Ikeda

Everybody, at one point in their lives, finds themselves on the receiving end of a prank phone call or inexplicable message left on their answering machine. However, have you or someone you know experienced a message or call that seems to go on forever, and the only thing you heard was a flat recording of uninspired classical music?

Faculty, staff, students in the dorms, and those with access to telephones in the 346- prefix have experienced this mysterious phenomenon for some time, and without explanation. Long messages consisting only of classical music can be found in one's voicemail inbox or on answering machines from time to time. By most accounts, the music is similar to the piped-in elevator muzak one would hear when put on hold.

An explanation for this problem was given by UO Telecom Services Director David Barta. "What happens is that somebody makes a call, gets voicemail or an answering machine and says 'Nah, that isn't what I wanted,'" illustrated Barta, "so instead of hanging up the phone, a lot of people will hit the flash button because that gets them a dial tone and it's easier than hanging it up."

This apparently places the first person on hold while the caller dials up someone else. As long as the first person, or answering machine, or voicemail is on hold, it's getting the music. So, why do some of the recordings last so long?

Barta explains, "When the caller finally hangs up the phone after finishing the second conversation, it disconnects the first one as well."

As long as the caller is talking on the phone with the second person, it will leave a classical music message of equivalent length on the first person's answering machine. This explains some of the horrendously long messages received by some students.

During early October, classical music soundbites were found on numerous individuals' answering machines in Henderson Hall of the Bean Complex. These messages were received during the same weeklong period.

"It was odd because I thought someone was playing a joke on me by playing music into the phone," said freshman biology major Samantha Garbush, "but what was weirder is that it lasted such a long time and that the music wasn't familiar at all. After about two minutes of it, I couldn't take it anymore and erased the damned thing."

What is odd about this scenario is that a group of people living in the same hall received the same message at approximately the same time. Garbush also noted, "It was pretty early in the year, so I hadn't even given out my number to anyone on campus, so who'd be calling me?"

Was there just music spontaneously coming out from a machine at Telecom Services, targeting a specific hall, or was it somebody trying to contact people in the hall one person at a time, and just using the flash button when he got an answering machine? There are no easy answers.

Barta stated, "We've sent out memos over the last few years, actually over the last 10 years, periodically reminding people at the University to hang up properly."

Since these phantom messages do not appear to be going away anytime soon, one way to mitigate the situation would be to make the messages more enjoyable. Such classical compositions are standard for Muzak, but perhaps Telecom Services could use selections more familiar to the ears of the general student population.

Masterpieces like Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries" would be a good choice, and the electronic version of Beethoven's 9th Symphony from "A Clockwork Orange" would definitely be appropriate for the campus atmosphere.

Perhaps the ASUO could work with the University to enact this change of the phone system. Maybe it's too much to expect student government to actually change something for the better. Maybe we're doomed to mysterious Muzak messages left on our phones for the rest of our UO careers.

Sho Ikeda, a sophomore majoring in CIS, is a staff writer for the Oregon Commentator