Page 4 of Have a Bear-y Little Christmas
Jeannie
You’re a Mean One, Mr. Gas
I staredat the balance on my utility bill. Even the protection of the dark mode on my beat-up laptop wasn’t enough to stop it from searing into my eyeballs.
I swear I paid that.
Anxiety twisting in my gut, I opened a new tab and quickly signed into my bank account, searching for a charge I was afraid wouldn’t be there. I’d learned to be pretty meticulous about my budget since I’d first gone into the world on my own, but even with absolutely perfect planning, I often came up short. So, the idea that I’d forgotten a whole utility bill had my stomach not just sinking out of my body, but starting its own excavation company to get to the center of the earth.
Heart pounding, I tried to keep my expression neutral in case my son happened upon me. I couldn’t describe the relief that washed through my body when, sure enough, I saw a charge from the utility company at the beginning of the month.
I had paid it!
Clearly, something was wrong, and I needed to call the company.
It wasn’t the first time a company had accidentally double-billed me. Thankfully, with electronic bank statements, it was so much easier to prove than when I’d first been on my own. I was only thirty, and yet technology had come so far since I was a teenager.
Taking my phone off the charger, I typed in the number under theContact Ustab. After a few rings, I was connected with someone. They went through the usual rigmarole of confirming my identity and pulling up my account, which I patiently waited through because I knew they had no choice. I’d worked in a call center for all of nine months while I was doing my online degree before I got my first gig editing another student’s paper for food money, and almost everything was scripted in some way or form. Honestly, it made me wonder why they didn’t use robots more often, because I’d felt like one.
Eventually, however, it was time to explain my issue, and I did, even giving the nice young man the date and time as well as the amount that had been taken out of my bank account. After that, he put me on hold, and I bounced my foot as I waited for him to tell me that my account had been corrected.
“Thank you so much for holding. I did a little investigation and looked at your charges; the one you listed was from October. You called ahead and set up a payment plan so you could pay it late without any sort of penalty.”
The smile dropped off my face, and my stomach swooped like it always did when I felt like I had fucked up. “I’m sorry?”
“The charge you mentioned? It’s from October. The bill you are looking at now is November’s bill; however, it’s late to your account because we had an issue with upgrading meter readings in your area, which put us behind. That likely led to yourconfusion. Your bill for December will arrive in two weeks on the normal schedule.”
I was used to pinching pennies, but during winter it wasn’t unusual for my utility bill to be over two hundred even for our small, two-bedroom townhouse. So, not only was I two hundred dollars off in my estimation for the month, but I would also haveanothertwo hundred due in two weeks.
Shit.
“I don’t understand how a company could mess up people’s bills and not even notify them,” I said, trying to keep the rage out of my voice. It wasn’t easy. Sure, I’d messed up when I forgot about the payment plan I set up in October, but still, shouldn’t the company at least have emailed me that something was going on with their billing?
“We were not expecting the delays we experienced, so we didn’t know in advance that this would be an issue.”
I reminded myself that this guy was likely getting paid very little to be verbally abused on the phone all day, so I took a deep, centering breath. I told myself not to freak out, even though I sorely wanted to.
“Look, I know this isn’t your fault. I am fully aware that you’re just doing your job. But it’sChristmas! You can’t drop a double bill on people and expect them just to handle it. Not with how tight everything is getting for everyone.”
Even though I was trying my best to control my voice, I was still getting too loud. I looked around for Max, and when I didn’t see him, I moved all the way to the kitchen. Hopefully, my voice wouldn’t carry.
“We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused, and as an apology, we’d love to apply a twenty-dollar credit to your account.”
I winced at the scripted response even as my rage boiled over. After everything my son and I had fought through to getback on our feet again, we were about to get put right back into that hole. And for what? For a multi-billion-dollar company that had just lobbied hard enough in our state government to change the cap on how much they could charge U.S. citizens? Ridiculous! And it wasn’t like they even paid their employees fairly. There was no way the guy I was talking to made a livable wage.
“Twenty dollars? You know that’s an insult, right? You’re talking about four hundred dollars being taken out around the holidays! And again, it would be a different thing if you had notified people, but this is the first I’m hearing of it.”
“I understand, ma’am, and I apologize again for the inconvenience. However, that is all that I am allowed to compensate you for. Would a payment plan help you? We can split up the December balance over the next six months.”
I didn’t know how to explain to him how far back two hundred dollars could set me with everything else I had going on, but what else could I do? If our gas or electricity were turned off, not only would my son get incredibly sick, but that was grounds for eviction in the city we lived in. And if I ended up homeless, I would have to surrender custody of my darling Max to the state.
Although he was an incredibly brave, powerful, and wonderful boy, he wouldn’t survive it.
“Mama?” he called from the top of the stairs.
Shit! I knew I was being too loud.
There had been a time when Max could sleep through anything, only waking up to vomit, take his medicine, or chug down whatever nutrient drink I made for his tender stomach. But since he rangthatbell? Now, he woke up from simple things like loud noises, wanting a glass of water, or even having a nightmare. Sure, I didn’tlovethat my child had bad dreams, but I was ever so grateful he wasn’t trapped in them anymore.
