A Rare Victory Over the System

Indulge me for a moment while I revel.

For I won a victory today over the system. If you don't have a sense of humor or feel you have never been cheated by the system, please stop reading now.

As we continue our discussion about America with all its glory and gore, all its decorated difficulties, all its frustrating faults and creature comforts, I'd like to turn your attention to our "system." Reminder: this is an indulgence post.

We received a bill in the mail from our natural gas comnpany yesterday. Being the prompt bill-payer I am, I immediately opened it and spied the amount owed. It seemed very high, at $83.47. I did not remember letting hot water run or turning on the heat in September...in Atlanta.

I figured that there was some kind of misunderstanding and determined to call the company on the morrow. I cannot say I was convinced I would made my point known, however. It seems that whenever I take issue with some bill or fee I am immediately treated with frustrating patronization from a string of employees and supervisors (depending on how high up they'll transfer me). Once I tried to take up issue with a vehicle tax bill that had caught up with me without giving me any notices of quickly piling up fees. I ended up talking to the actual Tax Commissioner herself, in all her robed majesty. "I'm sorry there's nothing we can do." Yea, I figured. Still, a brush with royalty made me feel my efforts weren't wasted.

Admittedly, the issue was half my own mistake. I accidentally paid the initiation fee for the wrong address. But I was sure that my activation money should be transferred over. There was no reason why the gentleman in ___ 6th St., apt 4, should get a free initiation fee because of my mistake.

With fear and trepidation, I called the company up this morning at 9:30 AM. Something I've realized after making countless insurance, utility, dmv, and admissions department calls is that you've got to catch them when they're fresh. The demeanor of a phone operator, despite what he or she may claim about needing approval from a supervisor, is directly correlated with your own success or failure. And he or she is often more likely to be kind and compassionate when he or she first arrives to work. It is as if the operator's cube looks like new and the operator's coworkers' faces are as they were the first day he or she started there. Or perhaps it is the sun shining, or the satisfaction of a great weekend.

Sometimes I wonder if a utility operator gives him or herself one freebie a day. They decide that for just one person that day, they will make it easy and simple. They will not put the lucky person on hold, they will acquiesce to the demands and just give it to them, chalking it up, depending on their religious or philosophical affect, to karma, good deeds, or reincarnating insurance. My conversation this morning did not go quite that smoothly, although I was pleased in the end, as the reader will see.

I dialed the number and a young woman answered the phone. I took this as a good sign. I believe middle-aged men are the most pleasant operators, though they are few and far between. Middle-aged women are the worst, their age multiplied by their weight determines their degree of difficulty and generally grouchy disposition. Young women are not the best (some endowed with a certain attitude of company zeal) and they are often easily flustered and brought to indignation. However, there are worse types to deal with and young women seem quick to compassion, a distinguishing and redeeming characteristic for the youth of their sex.

I explained the situation to the young woman. She told me that the extra $60 on our bill was due to an activation fee we hadn't paid. I explained to her that I had paid it, and it may not have been on the account we were dealing with at the moment. She put me on hold to pull up my record. I realized it was now or never. I ran out the door of the laundromat where I work and into the lobby of our apartment building (luckily I live right across the street). I vaulted up the stairs, into the door, and into the bedroom. In a flurry of files and papers, I fished out the bill that I had paid a few weeks ago. I returned to the laundromat and it was still empty.

After a few more minutes, the woman answered and told me that the fee was an error-a $60 error. We only owed $23.47. I was too relieved to rub my victory in her face. At first I felt I should have. I mean, they always do it to us don't they? Her voice was strained and short. She knew she was wrong and did not relish giving me the information. I am glad to report I was a gracious victor. I told her thank you very much for her time and wished her a very good day. Victory has a curious way of pacifying me.

I relayed the victory to my wife, who also felt victorious (probably not near as much as I did). She suggested I buy a $60 bottle of champagne to celebrate.

And that's how I won a rare (legal) victory over the system.