A SHOUTY MAN

Yesterday I got home from work only to find that I had to become a shouty man for a while. This was because I went to open the mail and found this letter addressed to me from a company whose name really doesn’t seem to pull any punches: “UNIVERSAL DEBT COLLECTION”. It was not a particularly nice letter to get and, more importantly, I really had no idea why I had received it. I was particularly offended by the phrase “You have chosen to ignore repeated reminders from our client in respect of the above debt” mostly because, firstly, I have no debts with anyone who might reasonably considered to be the aforementioned client and, secondly, I had not received any reminders about that non-existent debt from anybody at all, ever.

Obviously, this was rather a troubling development for a time so late in my working day, and, with BOLD CAPS informing me that my future credit or mortgage applications might be in peril, not to mention the thought of big, burly bailiffs turning up on my doorstep and insisting upon entry to my innocent little homestead, I thought that I’d better try and clear up what was obviously some misunderstanding. After all, if they had my address to send me this freaking letter, surely it wouldn’t have been beyond their wit to send me any previous reminders to the same address in the past, would it?

So, instead of idly mellowing into my hard-earned weekend, instead I found myself stomping around the house and having to make a telephone call to the number that I’ve so helpfully deleted from the image, just in case you feel like ringing them up and getting all ranty on my behalf.

I decided to save them from that. Do you see what a nice, reasonable man I’m becoming these days?

Anyway, I rang the number and spoke to a nice enough sounding young lady who asked for my reference number. I felt that I’d rather not recognise the fact that I needed to have a reference number and told her so, and that I seemed to have received a letter by mistake.

She still needed the reference number, so I conceded that point, and then grumpily told her what it was.

Once we had established that I was indeed who the letter thought I was, I explained that I had not got either of the telephone accounts with whatever company she told me it was that she seemed convinced that I had agreed to, and I didn’t even know where the retail park I had allegedly signed the agreement at even was (Later on, I checked my diaries, and it turns out that I didn’t even leave the house that day. I know... sad in so many different ways). She told me that she would pass me on to another department and the line went quiet.

This was the moment in which I decided two things. The first thing was that this was probably going to go on for quite some time, and, after all, I did have a train to meet. The second was more troubling. Was this, perhaps, some kind of a scam designed to keep me on the telephone for quite some considerable time and bleed me dry at vastly inflated rates? I had heard about those sorts of things, and they didn’t sound pleasant, and I had gone in with all guns blazing, and not much in the way of forethought, after all.

“Matthew” came on the line for a while and we discussed the situation. No I hadn’t taken out the whatever it was, etc., etc. He went off to “check” and the line went quiet again.

“£10, £20, £30…” went my mind…

“Matthew” then returned to tell me that there had been some kind of inadequate search and that a standard letter had been sent out and that it was all a mistake and, yes, I could ignore the letter. I asked him to confirm this and he said yes indeed, they would have to resume whatever searches they were doing and I could definitely ignore the letter, and so I thanked him… (I know!!!) and hung up the phone and went to meet the train.

But it still troubles me, which is why I am, through no fault of my own,  awake so late and writing these words instead of sleeping the night blissfully away like I ought to be.

After all, some random computer may very well have now blacklisted me (which is, incidentally why I’m choosing to name names here…), and I really have no guarantee that this incident is over, or that the big, burly bailiffs still won’t turn up on my doorstep at some point and make demands upon my financial goodwill, and, to be absolutely honest, I’m not really sure quite what the situation might be if they did.

A long time ago, when I lived in the urban jungle of the teeming metropolis, someone broke into my mailbox whilst I was away on holiday and went on a right old spree with my utility bills being used to verify “his” identity and allow him to leave retail outlets all over the countryside with all manner of electrical goods tucked under his thieving arms, and that took me absolutely months to sort out back then. I never really understood why the late lamented Cellnet never seemed to question the fact that someone buying three separate mobile telephones in three different shops during the same lunchbreak might just seem to be exhibiting slightly suspicious behaviour. Instead I just kept on getting a few of those “congratulations of opening your new account” letters every day for about a month. I do kind of understand now why Cellnet no longer seems to exist as a cellphone company if they couldn’t even make that particular connection.

On the plus side, I did get to be on very good first name terms with some of the people in their fraud department, but, even so, I really, really don’t want to have to go through all that again, and so, just to make it perfectly clear, and to have it on the record… You’ve got the wrong guy!!!

Do you reckon that’ll help?

Mind you, of course, it still might have been a big fat con (after all the internet - that fount of all accurate information - seems to claim that it is), which is why I’m telling you this tale of woe this morning…

“Keep ’em peeled!”