Early Sunday morning I stumbled to my third bedroom, (converted into a gym with a Bowflex and a treadmill) for my morning workout. I turned on the small television and passively listened to the news, as I trudged my way through the routine. Somewhere between the deltoid lat row and the wide watchamacallit pull down, the newsy was interviewing an insurance industry rep. During his statement he said something akin to:
“After some natural disasters it is probably best not to file a claim against your home owner’s insurance for certain types of damage to your home, because the insurance company has a right to raise your rates. In most cases your name will be put in a national data base, that would give you problems in the future, while trying to buy insurance for another home. And there are cases in which you will be denied insurance, because of your claims record.�?/FONT>
My head snapped around so fast, I nearly hurt myself during the watchamacallit.
“What?... What the hell did he just say?�?nbsp;
I told myself to calm down, but I couldn’t help but wonder when organized crime got back into the insurance business. I mean, what kind of deal is that? You buy a product, but you can’t use it? When will I not be able to drive my car? And, how far will this sort of thing go?
I can see it now:
My wife calls me while I am on my way home and asks me to pick up a few things for dinner. So, I whipped out my trusty debit card and my frequent shopper’s card and headed down the aisles of the grocery store. I added a six-pack of beer and a bottle of wine to the list. While looking for the peas, I noticed they were on sale, 3 for a dollar. Mama will be proud. At the checkout counter, I read over the receipt while the bag boy�?uh, bag person�?bagger? Whatever.. was putting my plastic bags in the cart. I notice a mistake.
“Uh, miss�?Miss? You charged me $10 for the peas, they are…�?/FONT>
She snaps the receipt from my fingers with a maleficent glare. Reprocesses the peas and gives me the $10 plus tax. After all, as advertised, the peas are free now. Then she punches in code 72, before she returns my debit card. So I ask. “What’s code 72?�?BR>
“That’s the Whiners National Data Base.�?nbsp; She explains with all the venom she could muster. “Where ever you buy groceries from now on, you will be charged a 5% Whiner’s Tariff and if you are punched in three times in a year, you could be denied your SHOPPING PRIVILEGES!�?nbsp;
The other customers shake their fingers in shame, as I cower from the store.
After stowing the bags in the trunk and feeling totally chastised, I decide to get me a coffee before I head home. In Gilbert’s Espresso and Bagel shop, I order a double chocolate latte with whipped cappuccino topping to go�?oh, make that two and no cinnamon please.
As I pick up the coffees and hand him my debit card, “I said no cinnamon, these have cinnam…�?/FONT>
Before I could finish, the cups are unceremoniously tossed in trash. Two new ones are made for free, as advertised, and before I got my card back�?you guessed it�?code 72!
“If you weren’t such a malcontent this wouldn’t happen.�?nbsp; He sneers.
Over-imaginative? Maybe, then again maybe not. I mean, think about it. Just how far�?
Whoa! Wait�?wait�?hold on a minute Oscar! We may be on to something here.
Just this morning my general manager walked into my office and announced, “It has come to our attention, that you took a 90 minute lunch last Thursday, rather than your allotted 45 minutes!�?/FONT>
“But …�?I tried to speak.
“This type of thing will not be tolerated!�?/FONT>
“Was with…�?/FONT>
“Your pay will be docked one hour this week!�?/FONT>
“A client.�?/FONT>
The last two words bounced off the wall, out the open window behind me, deflected off the windshield of a passing motorist and poked a hole in a small white cloud above... because no one was there to hear them. The general manager had already retreated to his office.
In frustration, I thrummed my fingers on my keyboard.
“What was the URL to that National Data Base again?�?/FONT>
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