I hate those spineless scammers that go around paying other people’s bills without their knowledge or consent. Mind you, no one has ever paid my bills, but I know these bill-paying scammers exist.
I know because husband Alan McKean is still in the hospital. He has been there since the last week in December. The bills are in his name. I can’t pay them. The only reason I can imagine greedy utility companies refusing money without putting me through a more rigorous security check than the police check I had to pass to enter this country is that mean-spirited scammers go around tricking big corporations by paying other people’s bills.
First it was the phone company. Actually, I am gradually realizing that besides spending half-a-day on the phone to get my name added to the bill so that I was eligible to pay it, sorting out the phone company was a breeze. I had to pass through about the same layers of security and scrutiny as I did to get my visa to remain here in the UK.
But the electric company? “Oh, the electric company,” she moans, hanging her head. Throw in some handwringing. Actually, it was an extremely rough ferry crossing over to the hospital this morning and there was a woman wringing her hands. At the time, I thought it was fear. Now I think it was despair. I think her husband is probably in the hospital, too, and she tried to pay the electric bill for him.
I never got a bill from the electric company. We got dumped by our old company and sucked into a new one, so I didn’t even know the name of the company or how to contact them. Alan handled it through his email—which is password protected. He can’t remember the password. So, I started out asking the company—when I finally found out which one it was—to change the emails to my email address because my husband was in the hospital. Their reply; “We can’t do that unless your husband calls us.”
“But he’s in the hospital.”
“Yes, you’ve told me.”
“He’s been there since after Christmas. I don’t know if he’s getting out.”
“Yes. But he needs to call us and give us permission to add you to the bill.”
“He can’t call. He can barely talk. He’s in the hospital. What am I supposed to do—sit here and not pay you until the lights and the heat go out?”
“You can pay the bill. I just can’t change anything unless he calls us.”
“Oh, good. That’s all I want to do. Pay the bill. How much is it?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“You want me to pay the bill, but you won’t tell me how much it is? I want to speak to a supervisor.”
“I can transfer you to a supervisor, but they will tell you the same thing. Company policy.”
“Well, if you can’t tell me how much I owe can you just throw a number out for fun? And I’ll pay that.”
“That would be telling you the amount. I could lose my job.”
So…the electric bill is not paid. Any day I will return home from the hospital to a dark cold house. But the lady will have kept her job.
Crazy? No, insane.
Hey, if any of you guys out there know one of those pesky scammers personally—tell them to pay my electric bill for me.