War With the Electric Company (01.10.2003)

It’s all a plot.

They’re hoping we’ll get so frustrated that we’ll finally just hang up and pay whatever it is they say we owe.  If you’ve ever had to call and fight about a bill you didn’t owe, you know what I’m talking about.

My most recent battle has been with the electric company.  They say you can’t fight city hall, and well, fighting the electric company has been pretty horrible.

I’m on averaged billing, so I pay the same amount every month, no matter what.  I also pay my bills with an online service, and this particular bill gets paid on the same day every month, rain or shine.

So when I received a disconnect notice last summer, I knew it couldn’t be right.  The telephone number printed on the notice sends you into the horrifying world of automated telephone systems.  It goes something like this:

“If you are a commercial customer, press 1; if you are a residential customer, press 2.”

This is a trick, because they take really good care of commercial customers who pay thousands every month.  Employees with any brains at all work these phones.

Employees who (a) are brand new, (b) don’t speak English, (c) can’t count to ten, (d) are deaf, or (e) all of the above … are the ones who answer the measly residential customer calls.  But you have to really work at it to even receive the privilege of speaking to one of these beings.

“Please enter your 24-digit account number.  Then press the pound sign.”  She makes it sound so easy.

I punched away, but on the 23rd number, I punched the wrong number.  Aarrgghhh!

“That is an incorrect number.  Please enter your 24-digit account number.”  Blasted machine.

I did.  But apparently, I forgot to punch the pound sign.  My pulse began to pick up.

“Please reenter your 24-digit account number.”  I started doing LaMaze breathing to calm myself down.  I somehow got it right.

After another ten punches of the dial and ten minutes of hold time where I was assured I was really important to them, I finally heard a human voice.

I explained my situation.  I thought she was listening.  Apparently she wasn’t.

“If you didn’t owe the money, you wouldn’t have gotten the notice,” was her reply. 

To make a long story short, one of my payments was lost.  They claim they never got it; the bill-pay service has a record of the date it was sent, but the electric company didn’t believe it.  The bill-pay people stopped payment on the check and issued a replacement.

But it turns out that if you ever skip a payment, they take you off of averaged billing, so my next bill was for $800, even though I didn’t really skip anything.  Oh dear.  I prepared myself mentally for another battle.

After getting nowhere with the electric company, the bill-pay guys went to bat for me.  Before long I was back on averaged billing.  That was last month.

So today I received another disconnection notice.  This one says my check was returned by the bank and they now want a money order for the amount plus a $25 service charge or they’re going to turn off my lights.

It seems they found the lost check after all (the one they assumed I was lying about), and cashed it … and of course it was returned since the bill-pay people stopped payment on it.

Yet another skirmish.  I explained my situation to the ditz on the other end and she replied, “If you didn’t owe the money you wouldn’t have gotten the notice.”  It must be in their training manual.

I’m tempted to just throw in the towel.  That’s what they’re hoping.

But they don’t know me.  I’m preparing for war.

About Sarah Higgins

Sarah wrote the column "Life's Funny!" for the Bay City Tribune (Bay City, Texas) from 1998 to 2003. The columns, primarily based on her hectic household full of four children, pets, and constant crises, are posted on this site. In 2014, she was diagnosed with a rare type of cancer, adenoid cystic carcinoma (ACC), in her sinus cavity. ACC is a wicked type of cancer with poor survivability rates. She underwent the resection of the tumor, part of her eye socket, her cheek bone, facial tissue, and half her nose, followed by 6 weeks of grueling radiation and 15 reconstructive surgeries. In 2021, her surgeon told her, "Well, I think you've beat this thing!" Posts about the early surgeries are also posted on this site by Sarah's son, Donnie. Today, she lives in her Montana log home just north of Yellowstone National Park with her dog, Charlie.