This past weekend the East Coast revved up for Hurricane Hanna, and for days we listened to reports about New Orleans being evacuated with a don’t-even-think-you’re-staying-here directive. On Saturday we had heavy rains and then some wild nighttime wind, but for the most part our region of New York was spared any flooding.
Saturday’s mail, however, brought us all the water we could dream of with the delivery of a bill from the Department of Environmental Protection for water and sewer services in the amount of $13,902.50. I had never received a single piece of mail from the DEP so this was quite unexpected considering our local water bill is routinely under $100. Perplexed, I showed it to Husband and asked if he was doing some secret laundry I didn’t know about.
He pointed to an address on the bottom of the notice indicating the property location was in Manhattan. He then reminded me that he didn’t do laundry in our house so why would he drive downtown to do it. He had a point.
Since the notice had a Saturday customer service telephone number, I rang up the DEP and was connected to an Asian woman with a very heavy accent and halting English. I gave her the identification number at the top of the bill and told her I didn’t own the property.
DEP REP: Why you get bill then?
OSV: I have no idea. That’s why I’m calling you.
DEP REP: You think bill too much? What was last bill?
OSV: The last bill probably went to the person who owns the building. How did you get my name?
While I was on hold, I studied the bill and saw that the DEP customer service center was in a section of Queens with a large Asian population. I told Husband that would explain the broken English. He looked at me like I was very naïve. Husband is convinced that all customer service in the United States is outsourced but the companies don’t want us to know that. I could tell he thought it was very clever of the DEP to train their reps in Calcutta to speak with an Asian accent.
While I was being connected to a supervisor, I noticed that my name and address was on a sticker affixed to the address box. I carefully peeled it back revealing the imprinted name and address underneath, no doubt the guy who really owed them the money.
SUPERVISOR: Is this the caller who received the $13,000 bill in error?
OSV: Yes, that’s me.
SUPERVISOR: Have you paid this bill yet?
OSV: Are you kidding? Did I write a check for $13,000 for service to a property I don’t own? Is that what you’re asking me?
SUPERVISOR: What is your bill normally?
OSV: I normally don’t have a bill. At all. Where did you get my name?
SUPERVISOR: It’s a mistake by the finance department. It’s part of a project we were doing.
OSV: What kind of project would that be? Sending out astronomical bills to strangers to see if they’ll pay? Has this project been successful aside from me?
SUPERVISOR: It was a project. Send us the bill with a letter explaining why it isn’t yours. We’ll get back to you if there’s a problem.
Oh, all right, if you put it that way. I mean what kind of problem could there possibly be?
Daughter’s Featured Fotos were taken at other Manhattan locations I don’t own.
like the sign says
from all directions
learn
ufo’s in chinatown?