A Computer Snafu--but No Byting Back
Living as I do in a thoroughly computerized world, I sometimes feel as if I’m flying through flak, always in danger of being zapped by some errant byte.
Computers are wonderful, until humans make them err. When human error is compounded by a computer, the resulting snafu is almost impossible to untangle.
In last week’s mail, my wife and I received a bill that makes us feel not only wronged, but helpless.
It was a bill from a Pasadena radiology laboratory showing that I owe $231 for X-rays of my chest (two views), cervical spine, shoulder (complete) and left shoulder. I had no such X-rays made.
What is more exasperating, the bill notes that the radiologist has already filed a claim with Medicare. “Payment will come directly to you. Balance now due and payable.”
So we are in the position of trying to convince the radiologist lab that I received no such service, but, worse, we will have to return payment to Medicare, if any is indeed forthcoming.
Do you know how hard it is to undo any transaction with Medicare once it has been done?
Recently, my wife applied for credit with an Eastern mail-order house, only to receive a form rejection listing a number of bad credit citations. Since our credit is A No. 1, I called the credit agency in some anger, only to be roadblocked by an answering machine. I would have to write, if I had any complaint, and ask for a copy of my credit report.
I wrote a letter in some heat, which was of course a mistake. Credit agencies are not moved by their subjects’ anger. Through private means I finally found a working phone number and talked to an assistant manager.
It turned out that my wife’s record had been transgressed by a woman with a similar name and an atrocious credit record. She had actually been assigned my wife’s social security number.
That was straightened out in time, and my wife was notified by the mail-order house that she was now in good standing. It was more than embarrassing; it was frightening. (There was one advantage: for awhile, at least, my wife had credit with one less mail-order house.)
Steven W. Wright writes that he recently sent a check for 62 cents to settle an alleged delinquency in his student loan account. The Student Loan Serving Center, in Minneapolis, advised him that the delinquency had been extant since May, 1987, but couldn’t say whether his check had been short that amount or the center had erred.
His alleged delinquency was reported to the U.S. Department of Education, which sent a warning (with the word WARNING in 1-inch type) that if he didn’t settle up his account he would be declared in DEFAULT and “referred to the Federal Government for further collection activity.” (Not “for collection,” but “for further collection activity.” Typical Department of Education gobbledygook.)
In sending the 62-cent check, Wright calculated the total cost (in time, phone charges and postal charges) at $238.25.
Of course, the frustration of doing business with government agencies far antedates the Computer Age.
Dick Pettit of Laguna Beach points out that Paul Tabori cites many examples in his book, “The Natural Science of Stupidity” (Chilton, 1959).
One is about a man who applied for gasoline coupons in the war so he could get to and from his essential war work. His application was denied and he was told to use public transportation. He replied that the first bus left too late for him to get to his job on time. Then he received a small number of coupons and a letter that said: “After due consideration, your application has been allowed and X units are attached to allow you to use your car to place of work only; the return to your residence to be made by public transport.”
A man who had lost a leg in the war was allowed an extra soap ration, but he received the coupons for six months only. When he applied, in six months, for more coupons, he was told that he could have them if he signed a certificate that his leg was still off.
One wonders how we won the war.
