The insurance company made a tiny mistake . . .

Got my insurance statement for my vehicles two weeks ago but only opened it today. I’d sat down to pay it, but came up short, quick-like. It was more than five times what it normally is. Now, I don’t know about you, but when what I expect to pay is five times more than I planned and we’re talking about 3-digit numbers (as in, “hundreds”) and not in 2-digit numbers, you have my full and undivided attention.

It has to be a mistake, I muse. Picked up the phone and called the local agent. The agency has been sold, no one who knows me is present any longer. No big deal. I ask to speak to someone in customer service. It went downhill from there.

The lady is rude. And snottily arrogant. It was all I could do to remain civil. She basically said I was a deadbeat and that she couldn’t help me (“…if you’d pay your bill on time…”). “Call the main office,” she spat.

Great! Like I have nothing better to do today. But $600 is a compelling reason to take some serious action ASAP, especially if I have to pay it before Friday.

Nice lady in customer service answers. “The bill doesn’t make sense,” she states. I readily agree. “May I put you on hold?” “NO!” I wanted to scream, but instead politely said, “of course.”

[Why is it that large companies with lots of money have the worst on-hold music ever invented? A tawny music box sounded better than this.]

I’m beginning to fume. I hate it when I fume. The s l o w burn, agitation, irritation rising to unpleasant levels.

The nice lady returns. “Sir, there is a serious problem with your account.” Great! Just flippin’ great! “Uh huh,” I intone. “It appears you’ve been paying your insurance and that of someone else since August of 1999.” “Huh?” is all I can manage. “Please do not pay your bill. Your coverage is in full effect. You are going to be due a refund.”

[Music playing inside my head] Happy days are here again, the sky above is clear again . . .

“Ok,” I reply, though I’m now on my feet doing an Indian rain dance while mouthing “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“How much is the refund?” I coyly ask.

“Hmmm. We’re going to have to research it, but it may be several thousand dollars.”

“Y e e e s s h!!!” But I didn’t say it.

“We’re going to have to contact the local agency and they’ll have to make amends (remember the snotty lady?) and the individual who’s had his insurance paid by you for 6 years will have to be contacted for him to make arrangements to pay it.” (Yikes!)

“We are sooo sorry this has occurred. Will you bear with us as we get it worked out?”

What can I say? There are all kinds of morals flying around this one. But for me, I’m going back to do a second round on the Indian rain dance and hope I don’t frighten everyone in the office!