Say Hello to Your New Bill

Our electric company sent out bills this month in a new format. It has lots of shiny colors now and they’ve arranged some of the numbers in different columns and sections, but it’s still a bill. Pretty straightforward: you see the amount due and you pay it. In all the years I’ve been receiving them, I’ve never had a problem with the basic concept of a bill.

I may be the exception though, because now along with every bill redesign comes an explanation. This one is no different. On the first pane of the trifold, it commands me to “Say Hello to Your New Bill”.

“Helloooooo, Bill,” I say.

“It’s All About You’,” it tells me, even though we both know it’s all about them getting their money. It’s all about me as long as I pay; if not, it’s all about living by the light of candles and kerosene lamps.

Inside the bill, I look for the one piece of information that interests me: the Amount Due. There it is. Was it different before? I can’t remember. Does it matter? Do people have trouble finding this? Are there people out there who open the bill and pore over the text for hours struggling to find this piece of core data?

“It’s nothing, Maw, just a lotta’ numbers. Let’s not pay it any mind.”

“Numbers? They give me a headache.”

What does this say about the electric company’s opinion of its customers? Do they think we’re all a bunch of dopes?

“Don’t put a pie chart in there. Our customers’ll think it’s a recipe.”

Yup, it sure is hard to understand.

Personally, I hate all this deception. It would be much more honest if the Bill adopted the approach of one of my ex-girlfriends. Instead of saying “It’s all about you” it would say, “It’s not about you. It’s me. I’m just not ready to commit to your power usage.” We wouldn’t even call it Bill. We might call it Sue or Patti. We’d discuss it over a beer with our friends:

“Hey, did you hear from Sue last night?”

“Sure did. You too?”

“Yup. She’s going all around town now in her shiny new format, while we’re supposed to stay at home and be thankful the lights are still on. And she still expects us to pay the bills.”

“I hear you, brother.”

We both drink up. “And just try calling that one eight hundred number. She puts you on hold and you can never get through.”

One of us, usually me, decide it’s time for the dreaded drunk dial. “I’ve got to try again.”

“Don’t, bro, you’ll sound desperate. It’s a turn-off.”

“I don’t care. I’ve got to talk to her.” I dial the number. My buddy’s head sinks to the bar.

“Hello, and welcome to-“

I don’t even hear. I just barge in. “Sue, is that you?”

“Press or say one for English, two for Spanish.”

“I just want to talk, Sue. That’s all!”

“Enter your four digit passcode.”

“I don’t remember.” I’m frantic now. ”Just talk to me!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t understand. Press nine to hear these options again.”

I hang up, defeated. Sue is so complicated, so many charts and sections now. She’s left me behind. No wonder she wants to move on. What am I supposed to do now?