Car Notes

It doesn't happen often but one or twice a year the finance company that holds the note on my little car neglects to send me a monthly payment demand notice.  It's annoying because this means I have to call them and go all through all the security nonsense and voice mail obstacles before someone will give me my account number and their payment address.

I explained this to Ryan, the polite and engaging young man at the finance company, and in record time he provided me with my loan number, gave me the mailing address, assured me it hadn't been the slightest inconvenience and wished me the very best day anyone could hope for.  I made myself a note to mail the check first thing in the morning but as sometimes happens, the next morning was mayhem and half over before I remembered.  I snatched an envelope and hurriedly scrawled the address on it, added a stamp, and walked it to the mailbox, not wanting to miss the morning pick up.  It was the next day before I realized I hadn't put the loan number on the check and cursing my forgetfulness, had to make a second call.

I explained this to Annie, the neither polite nor engaging young woman at the finance company, and asked if she would note my account with my telephone number and call when they received the check.

We don't do that, she said shortly, It's automated.

What is? I asked pleasantly although I could already see that this was going to end badly.

There are no people receiving checks, she said impatiently, You'll have to call back or stop payment and send another one.

If, I said carefully, still managing to be civil and not take the bait, there are no people, you must have an awesome automated system.  What exactly happens to checks you can't identify?

We hold 'em, she snapped and this time she made no effort at all to conceal her contempt, You can call back after it's had time to get here.

Well, I said calmly, determined to ignore the red flecks of rage that were beginning to drift across my field of vision, Since none of this would be happening if you'd sent me a monthly bill, perhaps there's some room to make an accommodation here.  At some point, an actual person must.....

We don't do that, she interrupted and it was very close to a snarl.

I counted to ten, took a breath, reminded myself that she wasn't worth it.

How extraordinarily unhelpful you've been, Annie, I said slowly and so sweetly that it made me a little queasy,

Thank you sooo very much.  And hung up.

That was when I looked up and saw our little nurse laughing so hard she was in tears.

In the words of Bette Midler, I told her and smiled in spite of myself, Fuck'em if they can't take a joke.