Wednesdays between the months of June and October are my busiest days, especially now that school has started. I have two farmers markets to staff, which means going to the bakery to get bread which I then wrap in brown paper and tie with twine, go to the bank for change for both markets, and make sure each staffer is equipped with all they need for the afternoon. We're also on week 4 of being a CSA pickup site. 70 cases of produce are dropped off at lunchtime and between 1:30 and 7, people come in to pick up their shares for the week. This is great fun because it means a flood of faces excited about fresh food. Sadly, I leave the shop each Wednesday at 2 to bring bread and product to Molly, my staffer at the Bellevue Farmers Market, so I miss much of the shop traffic. This Wednesday I felt a little off, a little foggier in the head than normal. I should note that Tulpen's sleep has been worse than usual over the past several weeks, and I am not, nor have I ever been, a coffee drinker. Sometimes I think that choice really is to my detriment. My bleary eyes passed over the shop, taking account of all I needed to accomplish there in the next four hours. The list I'd written had been left on the dining room table at home. I began compartmentalizing and tackling each task one by one until I'd gotten caught up and things were all as they should be.
Then, not ten minutes before it was time for me to leave, I answered the phone. Most of the calls I get are telemarketers or robo/hang-up calls. I've learned to not even pick up most of the time since they're not worth my time, but this time someone answered right away - a man who identified himself as a Duquesne Light technician. He had been sent out on a call to disconnect my service and would be at the shop in 45 minutes. Service was to be shut off due to my failure to pay, which was news to me. I use auto pay so my bills are deducted without my having to think about it, and I feel foolish for not being more keenly aware of this activity in my bank account. However, there had been alarming high e-bill two weeks ago, though I'd called about it immediately and had them put a stop on the automatic drafts while they conduct a meter reading. He told me that notices had been sent, and when the final notice had also gone ignored, this was protocol. My first instinct was to protest, but time was not on my side and I had to leave. I've been wrong about these things before, and, like in the case of my home water bill, things had been sent to the wrong address due to clerical errors. I knew this was entirely possible. He gave me the number to call to have things straightened out. The amount I was told I owed matched what was on the e-bill from earlier this month. Before I knew it, I was taking Joshua in Accounts Payable's instructions to get cash so I could report to a payment site on Baum Boulevard. I had to make my delivery to Molly and then get Olive from school before I could do anything else, but I hadn't gotten all the facts. My phone's battery was low but I'd gotten the address of the payment office. I was to call Accounts Payable when I got to the office and would be given more detailed instructions at that point. I was getting regular calls from Joshua who told me that the call was being recorded because he needed to show he was on the phone with me to keep the technician from carrying out the shut-off. All I could think of were the ice cream sandwiches and pints in the chest freezer that would thaw if the shop lost power. OVER MY DEAD BODY. Matt, my pal and coverage at the shop, arrived while I was still on the phone with Joshua. He could sense my state of panic and immediate scooped Tulpen from me while I dashed out to the bank around the corner to withdraw the exact amount I needed to pay to keep my electric account in good standing: $998.54. I was grateful I had it, that I'd picked up the phone, that I'd been at the shop and not Matt, who wouldn't know what to do. I breathed a sigh of relief that I was that much closer to taken care of this unexpected bit of business. Having loaded bread, olive oil, and daughters into the car, I even stopped to survey the landscaping outside the shop for Marlowe's toys she'd left behind and retrieved them for her, before zipping out, twenty minutes behind schedule.
Roughly five minutes of downtime existed before I had to pick up Olive from school, which would have been an opportune time to research the validity of the claim that my account was, indeed, past due. But my battery had dipped below 10% and I needed to keep it on to field Joshua's calls while still conserve enough battery for the final call to process my payment. The three girls were on our way to the payment office on Baum, twenty minutes from Olive's school, when I got a third call from Joshua since leaving the shop. "Do you know when you'll be there?" he asked, seeming impatient. I had told him every time we'd spoken when I'd be there. 4 o'clock. I began to get testy. "Have you listened to nothing I've said? I had plans today. Plans that could not be altered. I had no notice. I'm doing the best I can." He apologized and said that he had to ask since the call was being recorded. We made it at the agreed upon time, and we circled around the area on foot looking for an office. When I saw the address posted on the door I was certain I'd taken down the wrong number. It was a Rite Aid. I called Joshua and I stared around, bewildered, searching for an enclave labeled for Duquesne Light use. "That's right," he told me. "Go to where to the prepaid cards are near the front." I found them. "Now get two MoneyPak cards and bring them to the cashier. Have him put $500 on one and $498 on the other." He had neglected to tell me that there was a fee for the cards, for which I did not have cash, so I used the ATM in the store. The cashier looked concerned and asked me what this was for. "Oh, just paying my Duquesne Light bill to avoid service shut-off. The system was down so I couldn't pay online or over the phone." Though I was telling Joshua how COMPLETELY SHADY all of this was as I withdrew money from the ATM to pay the difference, I left feeling like the transaction was somehow legitimate. My shame and embarrassment at my stupidity horrify me as I recount the events of the day, but it wasn't until I got back to the shop where Rob was and told him that I'd gotten it cleared up did the fog begin to clear and the realization that I'd been taken started to settle in. No longer being in a rush, I sat down on the shop phone to put in a call to Duquesne Light. It was a different than the Duquesne Light I'd been calling for the past four hours. Clearer. LEGITIMATE. A company that gives its customers SEVENTY-TWO HOURS' NOTICE, not 45 minutes', before terminating service. The representative assured me that my account was not in default.
I felt ill. I had just thrown away over $1000. Money that would have been put to good use for the business. Money that, had I been in a more comfortable place, could have done a whole heck of a lot of good for the flood victims in Texas and Louisiana. I can't think about it. Rob told me to just let it go. I should. It's only money that can be made back. But it's the way it was taken from my trusting hands that pains me so. Still, I'm trying to take comfort in the fact that I didn't have to sacrifice too much to get it. A few hours of stress. My children will not miss any meals. But the thing I appreciate most is how Rob responded to my foolishness. He did not shame me or make me feel worse than I was already feeling. This is how he is. I had great difficulty falling asleep last night (I am now writing the morning after), and kept trying to push out thoughts of my conversation with the scam artists by reminding myself how truly lucky I am to be with someone so calm, patient, and kind. Someone who doesn't believe in punishing me for acting on impulse and forgetting reason. I am out not an insubstantial bit of money, but what matters most to me is still very much in tact.
