Country Roads

Customer service
“Your call is important to us. Please stay on the line for the next available service representative” and be tormented by the same repetitive bars of a merry little jingle that will be repeated over and over for the next twenty minutes.
“Hello, my name is Bryan. How can I help you?”
With great joy I hear a human voice and take full advantage of it.
“Bryan, I just received the pink slip for my Chevy truck from you, the California Department of Motor Vehicles, but you have spelled my name wrong.”
“In what way is it spelled wrong?”
“It is calling me Irnen instead of Irene. Will that matter?”
“Unfortunately, yes. The pink slip needs to have the spelling of your name correct.”
My heart sank. I went to the trouble of paying off our truck to get out from under monthly payments so the bank no longer “owned” my pickup. They sent me the legal papers releasing their ownership. However, in order to actually obtain the pink slip I needed to fill out a form, pay fifteen dollars to the DMV and then everything would be in proper order.  I did all that, yet, now, Irene didn’t own the truck – somebody named “Irnen” did.  
Bryan said, “You need to go to a DMV and get them to correct the pink slip.”
“Why do I need to correct it when your Sacramento office is the one who is responsible for the error?”
He explained that it would take three weeks to get it corrected by mail. I said I was alright with that. He said that he would transfer my call to the office that would tell me where to return the Irnen document.  At that point he said goodbye and the phone went dead. Maybe he passed away before he was able to transfer my call. Irnen will never know.
Irnen decided to take control of this issue and she downloaded the proper form and mailed it, thereby avoiding operators, melodies and misdirected calls.
My next battle was with Comcast. During the last months of my husband’s life, he loved signing on to introductory plans for communications companies. Hence, our telephone was handled by AT&T; the television by DISH; and our internet, Comcast.  Upon his death, I wanted to simplify the bills and so I signed on to a Triple Bundle with Comcast, for one reasonable monthly fee.  Did you get that, Comcast? It was me, Irnen, or Irene, who signed us up and cancelled the other two.
“Your call is important to us………..This is Dorothy. How may I help you?”
“Dorothy, I have a question about my last Comcast bill.”
“I’m sorry, Irene, but you are not the name on the account for this number. I can only speak to Joel.”
Now that was and still is a really serious problem.  Everyone would like to speak to Joel, including his heart specialist who called the other day, irritated that Joel hadn’t made an appointment for his annual checkup.
“Dorothy, you cannot speak to Joel. There isn’t anyone in this house for you to speak to about this account except me. I am paying the bills. I am the one who signed you up to take over our telecommunications apparatus. Joel is dead, Dorothy.”
“I am very sorry, Irene, about this, but I will need a certificate of death to be faxed to our office before I can answer any of your questions.”
It didn’t faze her that I had, indeed, faxed her office a copy three months before. They hadn’t received it or it was misfiled.
“Why are you making me do all of this again?” I pleaded, near tears.
“How do I know you are Irene, Irene? You may be the witch across the street, for all I know.”
“The witch across the street wouldn’t be paying my bills!” I answered.
I had her with that response. She apologized again and said all would be settled when she received another copy of Joel’s death certificate.
After that all was well. Irene is on the account. Irene can ask questions and obtain answers, after listening to merry music.
Meanwhile, Irnen has received in the mail a bill to pay for registering the Chevy truck. Hopefully Irene’s check will be acceptable to pay Irnen’s bill. I can hardly wait to be pulled over by the CHP for a seat belt violation and, upon handing the officer my registration, be informed that I am driving a stolen vehicle – Irnen’s one and only truck.
Renee Kiff weeds and writes at her family farm in Alexander Valley.