I can’t say I wasn’t surprised to see the disconnect letter on my door. It’s a good thing it was neon pink so no one else could miss it either. That way, if it pulled loose of the masking tape your people used, one of my wealthy and retired and judgmental neighbors could have pointed it out to me at the next cocktail hour.
The reason, Haris, I was surprised was because I set up an automatic bank draft with Jenny back in July. After speaking to two other supervisors, they passed me to you—I was a little tired by then, my phone was dying, and I had been sitting naked on the kitchen tile for coolness. I remember when you asked me to go over the problem again, anxiously saying, “But I’m losing light.” And then I walked into my vacuum cleaner.
You said you’d also had “quite a day,” so let’s go over your greatest hits:
Haris: I’m not saying you didn’t call. I can see here that you did. But someone must have misinformed you, because we didn’t receive your payment. That’s why your power is shut off.
Me: Oh well, the thought did occur to me. But then I rejected that out of hand because I thought it far more likely that it was a prank. Pulled off by Progress Energy and Jackass.
Haris: Ma’am, there’s no need for sarcasm. And you would have received a final notice letter.
Me: I didn’t. I have not received a single paper bill since I moved in. I’ve told Progress this in other, possibly imaginary, conversations.
Haris: Is your address 807 Wrightsville Beach, NC 28480.
Me: You are one fifth right.
Haris: If you had given us the right address—
Me: IF?? IF??? At what point, Haris, do you think I set out to deceive you about my address. Because it wasn’t when Progress told me a few months back that I had to be mistaken—there was an 1107, a 605, and a 1008, but certainly there was no unit 807. I had to come up with a very compelling case to get you guys to believe there were more than 3 units in this building. In this 11 storey building.
Haris: …. Ma’am, I understand what you’re saying.
Me: That’s good.
Haris: But even if you’re right about everything, I can’t waive the fee. I don’t know if you set up a bank draft with her because she forgot to make notes on your account.
Me: I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you because my brain just exploded.
Haris: …
Me: Sorry. I’m sorry. Listen, I’ll take it up with your supervisor tomorrow, but what if he tells me our conversation never took place. Then what. You guys could just keep deleting everything.
Haris (superb timing): Ma’am, I’m really having trouble hearing you. Are you there?
Me, panicking: Canwejustgetthepowerturnedon PLEASE. What time can someone be here?
Haris: Unfortunately, we are not in communication with the service vehicles.
Me: You are not in communication with the services vehicles. You don’t communicate with them. So, Progress has no contact information for them, no phone number?
Haris: No, we don’t have that information.
REALLY Haris?? What were you going to do?? Send a fucking letter? Get the town crier? Smoke signals? Cup and string? Fine. I’m sending my next payment to you via a Harry Potter owl.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
6 comments:
it is november, and i'm here at 1107.
just after the haris incident, as i was sitting stock-still in I-85 traffic during a tropical storm, you retold it to me...
and while, normally, you might scream it at me...you reenacted it in almost a whisper. which means, of course, crazytown.
oh, haris. haris, haris, haris.
what can you expect, dear, from a man who spells his name phonetically?
love,
sallee
why was i whisper-screaming. probably hoarse from shouting and laughing and crying on the phone with harrrris. (ooh, that just made me think of The Shining... "and i corrrrected her").
sallee and maymee. you should both come back. now.
Man, I think this shows, in scary realism, what angry Hannah is like.
Post a Comment