“I can understand perfectly how the report of my illness got about, I have even heard on good authority that I was dead. James Ross Clemens, a cousin of mine, was seriously ill two or three weeks ago in London, but is well now. The report of my illness grew out of his illness. The report of my death was an exaggeration." ~ Samuel Clemens, May 31, 1897
Sooo... yeah. Last Thursday night or Friday morning, I was sitting up and was actually typing out a little something when the internet went down. I didn't think too much about it until I realized the television was quiet behind me also and reached over to pick up the phone to find no dial tone.
I have had something of a low level (and slightly ridiculous) war going on with my service provider since October of 2017 when my wife died and a friend took me down to take Love's death certificate and get the account changed over to my name. And to get a paper bill sent to the house instead of an electronic one to her email (which I never had the password to).
In December, 2017 (right around Christmas), they cut off the internet and television, but left the phone on so I could call. I called them and asked why. They mentioned I hadn't paid the bill. I asked them what bill? That I hadn't received a bill. They assured me they had sent it. To the email.
I pointed out that not only had my father's wife died just twenty-two days after mine, and thus I didn't have a lot of attention for a bill that was never sent, but that I had specifically requested a paper bill be sent to the house and that the email be taken off since that was my wife's and I never had known her password. The person was very commiserative but they could not turn it back on and until and unless I paid. They quoted me a dollar amount, which sounded suspicious to me, even after they reversed all late fees and penalties.
Once we'd gotten that hurdle out of the way, I pressed for how much the monthly bill would be. And was quoted half again the amount I had been quoted in the office. We went over the itemized fees. And I loaded up on Latin phrases (and some little knowledge of legal theory from a misspent semester covering a class (as instructor) for a group of paralegals) and ran over him for a good half hour with it. Unfortunately, it was past the 30 day money back clause in the contract I'd signed. (Which it wouldn't have been if they'd sent me the damn bill like I asked! [And, yes. I did point that out.])
However, as stubborn as I can get about probably a great many more things than are really good for me, I recognized a proposition that I just wasn't going to win. (Although, I noticed in later visits to the local office, they had carefully removed all the posters that were blatant false advertising and were now careful to explain the fees.) I agreed to send the payment of the amount that he stated each month. "But, I want a damn paper bill in the mail, damn it!"
They never sent me one. Ten more times that I can prove (three in the local office, seven over the phone), I fought with them about the paper bill. And each time, they assured me they had taken care of it. And each month, it wasn't taken care of.
Now, I've been up (and down) the gravel road for awhile. More than a little on my face. So, I knew that eventually I was going to get hit with a rate increase. That's just how it works. Everything goes up in price eventually. I knew it was coming. But, I think I mentioned that I can get a little stubborn?
Well, they got to the point they wouldn't discuss my bill with me over the phone since I couldn't provide them the four digit code from my bill. Of course, I didn't know my four digit code because they had never sent me a damn bill! And we would go into another iteration of "Yes, sir. I have fixed that now. It will be out to you in the next billing cycle." With my rejoinder of, "Bet you next month's bill it isn't."
And, because I am too stubborn for my own good sometimes... well, you can probably see where this is going.
So, yeah. At some point they went up, and I didn't know. So, each month the amount over what I sent was rolled over into a new month along with a ten dollar fee until it accrued enough that they shut me off.
So, I walked down to the local office. Roughly about ten miles round trip. I haven't had a vehicle in a decade. According to ADA, I can technically still drive. But, down in the fine print, it says if I have an accident, then I can be charged with a DUI. Whether the accident can be proved to be attributed to my condition or not. So, we basically gave away my motorcycle, my jeep, and the wife's car.
No, I didn't go begging a phone to call a ride, much less beg a ride directly. Yes, pride is my besetting sin. Shaddup unless you don't have one.
They told me that I hadn't paid my bill and until and unless I did they couldn't help me and refused to discuss it further.
Me being me, I said, "Betcha I did." And limped across town to my bank to gather up my proof.
Me being me, I did find a way to have some fun along the way. For reasons that escape me a home-free woman decided to take up with me and walked the several miles talking with me. Sadly, I think I broke her heart when we got where I was going, and she professed undying love for me only to be told that my heart belongs to another. But, such is love (and life), I suppose. She seemed to take it sadly, but rather philosophically. Although, perhaps that was the wad of money I pressed in her hand to go get something to eat.
Or it could have been the three husbands that she mentioned she was also going to feed with it. Ah, well. Such is life (and love).
It took rather longer than it should have at the bank. And the days of my churning out a five minute mile are gone. So, rather than heading back to the office, I headed for home. Yes, still afoot. I already admitted that I am prideful and stubborn. Let's not beat it into the ground.
My neighbor saw me doing my Frogger imitation across the highway, and once I got home gave me a proper dressing down for not cadging a ride from him. He and I don't see eye to eye. He feels like he owes me since I've given him money from time to time for his food truck business, or just because his family was having a lean time. I don't figure he owes me a thing since I'm just being a good neighbor. Much less to drive me around and sit and wait while I handle business that should have been handled nineteen months ago if they had just sent me a damn paper bill through the mail!
However, Willard is a Viet Nam vet that made it back with a trick knee and a hole in his foot as his only injuries. And he had two buddies with him that were also vets. So, when he chewed my ass, I said, "yes, sir. If you can catch me leaving, then I'll accept the ride."
The wily old bastard posted sentries!
When I tried to sneak off for groceries on Saturday, not one or two, but three grandkids ran into his house and told on me while two more surrounded me to keep me from moving on! And I don't know what he threatened them with, but they would absolutely not be bribed with candy. Damn little meddling crumb snatchers.
I will grant this much. Willard does know me too well by half. The entire trip, he kept mentioning that the cable office wouldn't be open until Monday, so he would take me then. But, he really didn't have to keep repeating it the entire trip to the store and back. I got the point the first time.
Just out of pure contrariness, I borrowed his phone to call the company. Not really to confirm the office wasn't open. But, just because I wanted to get another jab in.
Sure enough, it still wasn't showing I wanted a paper bill.
After listening to me get transferred to three different departments and chewing ass, Willard was shaking his head and laughing. "You remind me of an old drill sergeant I had."
"Then why don't you do as you're told?" I shot back as I handed him his phone.
"Because I mustered out, son," Willard grinned back. "Now get your ass back in there and don't come out unless Miss Daisy is with you until Monday."
Me being me, I did what he said. The way I wanted to.
I didn't have internet, telephone, or television. I do have a library of books, movies, music, and games I suppose I could have entertained myself with. However, I decided to do some much needed cleaning. So, that's how I spent Saturday and Sunday. Throwing furniture around and slinging a forty pound shop vac I use in lieu of the usual Hoover or Dust Devil. Dust bunnies? Hell, a dust elephant came out from under the bed and trumpeted for a peanut. But, that's the nice thing about using a more powerful shop vac for house cleaning. Anything still there, you can put a collar on and feed up.
However, it's probably just as well wily Willard was sitting outside one door and my new neighbor sitting outside the other on Monday. 'Cause I probably wasn't in shape to make the walk and make it back after my exertions. (In my defense, it had been awhile since I'd lifted the couch one handed to vacuum under it with the other. [And it showed.])
Not to mention, I hadn't slept very well without the television to drown out the gunshots and sirens that aren't quite consistent enough to mark the hour. I could probably have slept through them. But, Daisy couldn't without the masking sounds. And only a coma patient could sleep through Daisy Mae getting riled up. The barking isn't so bad. But, when a ninety pound mutt bounces on your gut, it's bound to get your attention.
Even with all my proof and careful plotting and planning, it took several hours. Willard had to leave and pick up his youngest son and a couple of grandkids and was almost late to his Brazilian Jiu Jitsu belt test behind it. Which is why I hate cadging rides from him.
But, the battle still wasn't done. They had decided for reasons known only to them that I needed new equipment. And had wanted to send a technician out. For a fee, of course. Which I responded with a two word declarative exclamation that both began and ended with an "f." I'm sorry. But, some situations do abso-fucking-lutely require language Mama wouldn't have approved of!
I informed them in no uncertain terms that I used to teach computer repair, networking, small electronics repair amongst other things and no way no how were they going to charge me to send a techie out that I would then have to explain what he was doing wrong and then spend twice the time it should have taken because their training program was crap and the idiot they sent didn't know what to do when everything didn't work without calling the office. (Yes. In fact, that has happened each and every time they send someone out. And each and every time, they are told to do exactly what I told them to, but wouldn't do until their phone told them to.)
And naturally, I had to borrow Willard's phone and call the office. Not because I didn't know what to do. But, because I needed them to do something from their end. And had to argue with them for thirty minutes to get them to just fucking do it! ***facepalm***
And, guess what? They still didn't have it in the computer to send me a damn paper bill!
Well, the phone started working. And almost immediately I got back to back calls wanting to sell me health insurance and burial insurance. Fuckers.
Have you ever noticed there are days it just doesn't pay to chew through the padded restraints?
Monday night, yesterday, and last night were dedicated to rest and recovery with 90% or thereabouts spent variously sleeping, dozing, or just zoning out with some relaxation exercises to get muscles that didn't want to ease up to do so.
Any road, my point (as much as I ever have one) is that I'm alright. Heaven doesn't want me and Hell knows I'll be new management so they keep losing my transfer paperwork. Don't worry about me.
You know... I think I'll call the cable company and give them some crap about my damn paper bill through the mail!
But, any row you've got to hoe, make yours a good day and have a little fun along the way or what's the damn point?
