Are You Smarter Than a Bill Collector?

Are You Smarter Than a Bill Collector?

I should have known it was going to be one of those days. I had already been warned.
First thing this morning, I had just finished mopping the kitchen when I heard the thunder rumble in like a runaway train and, swoosh, rain pounded down in torrents.
Moments later I heard frantic scratching at my garage door.
I was pretty sure it wasn’t a person. People usually ring the doorbell. Or they knocked if it was too confusing to figure out which button was the doorbell and which was the garage door opener.
Intrigued, I opened the door just enough to peek out. Two huge and muddy St Bernard’s pushed past me and into the kitchen.
Crap.
They are my neighbor’s dogs and deathly afraid of thunder. And they know I almost always leave my garage door up when I’m at home. They are put in a fence when their owners go out, but have learned how to get the gate open. They have done so repeatedly. Apparently they are faster learners than their masters.
I cleaned the dogs up as best I could and growled by way of letting them know I was not happy about the muddy paw prints on my floor. Hey, it’s a universal sound all species seem to understand. Both dogs yawned and splayed out full body on the floor.
The neighbors retrieved the dogs about an hour later.
I put John Denver in the CD player and donned gloves to tackle the bathrooms. “Thank God I’m a Country Boy” will just about get you through two full bathrooms.
Before I could finish the second toilet, the telephone rang. It was the house phone so I assumed it was a telemarketer, and I let it ring. And, eeww, not going to touch my phone with where these gloved hands had been anyway.
The telephone stopped ringing and a Nano-second later my cellphone rang. Worried that it was someone who really needed to reach me, trying both the house phone and my cellphone, I ripped the gloves off a little too quickly and sprayed myself with the water dripping from the gloves. Eeww, eeww, eeww!
“Hello?”
“Ms. Gruel?”
“Gurule”
“Sorry, Ms. Guruley?”
“Gurule”
“Oh, sorry, Ms. Garuel?”
“It’s ‘G-U-R-U-L-E,” I spelled.
“Uh huh. So, this is Ms. ‘G-U-R-U-L-E’?”
“Ah, well, yes.”
“Hello, Ms. Gur-ah, ma’am. My name is Shaniqua and I’m calling from DishTV. How you doing today?”
“I cancelled my DishTV. I switched to DirectTV.”
“Yes, ma’am. And we’re sorry to hear that, and hope that you will come back to us. But you still owe $3.50 on your bill.”
“Shuneka, is it?”
“Shaniqua.”
“Shuneeka?”
“It’s ‘S-H-A-N-I-Q-U-A’”. She spelled.
“How about we forget about names?”
“Sounds good to me.”
“OK. How do I owe anything? I packed up all the equipment and shipped it back within the ten days, and paid my final bill.”
“Yes, ma’am, but our records show you still owe $3.50. Can I take that payment from you today?”
“What’s it for?”
“Hmmm, let me look at your account. It says here that you owe $3.50. Can I take that payment from you today?”
“What does it say I owe it for?”
“Hmmm, let me just scroll on down here. It says your final bill was $55. And we received $55.”
“And?”
“And you still owe $3.50.”
I blew out a sigh.
“Ma’am? Can we get that payment today? It’s past due.”
“Past due?”
“Haven’t you been getting our notices?” She asked.
“I thought they were just mailings trying to get me to switch back. They had “We Want You Back” on the envelope.”
“Yes, ma’am. We do want you back. Do you want to switch back? I can’t help you with that. I could transfer you to someone who could handle that for you.”
“No! I signed a two year contract.”
“Yes, ma’am. Well, you owe $3.50. Can I take that payment for you today? We would like to take care of this today, since its past due.”
“How much has Dish spent trying to collect $3.50?”
Silence
Sighing, I said, “OK. Let me get my card.”
“Ma’am, we can’t take a credit card payment for anything less than $10.”
“But, I only owe $3.50.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Well just put it on my card that’s on file for my account. I have ordered pay per view for less than $10.”
“Your account is closed, ma’am, and we don’t keep that information after an account is closed.”
“You just said you were looking at my account.”
“Your closed account ma’am. And there is a balance owing of $3.50. Can I take that payment for you today?”
“How?”
“We take Visa and MasterCard.”
“You said there was a $10 minimum on credit card payments.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Look, I said exasperated, I don’t owe but $3.50, and I don’t even know what it’s for. I’m not paying $6.50 for you to take my payment!”
“I could take a check by phone ma’am.”
“Well, for goodness sakes. Ok, let me get my checkbook.”
“Yes ma’am. That’ll be $3.50 plus a $5.00 handling fee.”
“What? You’re charging me a ‘handling fee’!”
“No ma’am, the processing agent charges that.”
“I never paid any of these ‘handling fees’ or ‘minimum’ amounts when I was with Dish!”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s a courtesy we extend to our customers.”
“Good grief! Did you ever find out why I owe $3.50?”
“Let’s see here, I can scroll on down.”
I heard a bubble pop. “Are you chewing gum?”
“No ma’am.”
“Hunh. How about I just mail you a check?”
“We’d like to take care of this today, ma’am. Can I put you on hold?”
“You’re not coming back to this line are you?” I asked.
“You’re not really going to mail a check are you?”
We both were silent for a couple of beats.
“Want to call it even?” I asked.
“Sounds good to me.”