Bills, bills, bills

Bills.

They mark the passage of YOUR money into THEIR hands, whoever they are.

Recently, I have been enjoying telephone combat over a series of bills which came in Jared's name.

Hilarious!

The delightful phone entities always ask to speak to him. After MONTHS of unsuccessful negotiation with these Children of God who work for Satan, I am at my wits' end and for those who know me, it was a short trip.

I have REPEATEDLY explained in a patient tone that Jared CAN'T come to the phone because he is aphasic. After then explaining what THAT means, I'm to the point where I have just become brutally honest with these poor folks who are trying to eke out a living in the worst possible job field there is.

The phone calls generally go something like this:

RING RING

Hello.

May I speak with Jared Merrill (which they generally pronounce as "Jair-Rod More-reel")?

Jared can't come to the phone, may I take a message, I'm his mother?

No, we need to speak to him directly about a debt he owes.

Do tell, Jared owes you money? For what, if you don't mind me asking?

We need to discuss this with him.

You CAN'T discuss this with him because he is aphasic. He is also a totally disabled 15 year old CHILD.

(Silence)

Now, how can I help you with this issue.

Generally, this is where their happy little train of thought derails in a most unpleasant manner.

After explaining his medical history to the disgruntled operator, I indicate that since he is totally disabled, his medical bills at this point should ALL be referred to Alabama Medicaid.

Then I ask for the name of the company who referred us to this collections agency. The last phone call I got, the nice man on the phone working for Satan said "I can't give you that information." To which I replied, then I can't help you any.

He said if you will just verify your information, then we can get this matter taken care of.

Do what?

YOU CALLED ME, MINION? YOU CALLED ME!

Whereupon I generally tell them that I don't know them, haven't done business with their company and will NOT give them private information which could then be used to create fake ID's in my son's name.

They are not amused and frankly, neither am I.

Then, I ask to speak to a supervisor. Tony, who was trying in vain to pry personal data from me (most of which is on the computer screen in front of this nimrod), transferred me to Mike who did nothing to help. NOTHING whatsoever.

Finally, I got the name of the company which THEY said put this matter into collections.

So, being bighearted, I cut them some slack and tell them I'll call the company directly and find out just what fool punched the wrong button on the billing cycle statements.

Then, the process starts all over again when I call and speak to some chick named Kita. I have spoken to Kita frequently enough to hum the song that is on her voicemail announcement. Then, after jumping through the 7 hoops of flaming death to reach the lowest level of telephone hell, I get to speak to another lady, who has yet to tell me her name, but who is actually helpful.

If I knew her name, I'd send HER flowers.

We get the file open and see that it has already been flagged to REMOVE from collections. Because we NEVER owed them anything. Not one red cent.

And Jared didn't open a contract with them at all. Not that I would mind if he were capable of so doing. That would be fabulous. Because that would mean his butt would be out working somewhere to PAY for the account.

But I digress.

The point here is that these faceless and most of the time nameless people are just doing a job which they probably hate as much as we hate getting the calls from them. They work for Satan because they have kids to feed, a mortgage to pay and an ex who hounds them for money 24/7 because they want money but don't want to work to obtain it.

I try to be patient.

Sometimes, I am.

So next month, when I stroll out to my mailbox, I fully expect to see the same bills once again. The amount on them varies from billing cycle to billing cycle. I assume that is an exercise in seeing if I am paying attention to it.

Jared doesn't care. He doesn't have to talk to them on the phone. All he cares about is that Mommy stops shouting to the 'nice' man on the phone who is demanding information be tendered when none is forthcoming.

Maybe someday, all of this will get sorted out. In the meantime, we just pray that the Lord will say 'It is enough' in Jared's behalf and he can be restored to perfect form and condition.

I wonder if it is illegal to put a bomb in my OWN mailbox? Just to blow up the bills, you understand? I could run the trailing wires up to my porch where I could sit with Jared and help him push the button to activate the charge of dynamite I can whip up with my chemistry set.

KABOOM!!!

The next time they call, I could then honestly say, I'm sorry, but I haven't seen that particular bill.

It's a thought . . .