No power, no eternal bell

No power, no eternal bell

JAKARTA (JP): I've had my ups and downs with employees from
the state-owned electricity company PLN. My meter reader is an
abrasive man which used to made me react to him in kind. It took
us ages to get used to each other, but now that we have we get
along just fine. It only took one year of him leaving his finger
eternally on my doorbell and me yelling from inside the house
until I reached the gate, that one quick push was enough. Now
I've come to realize his abrupt manner is not rudeness, but
rather just part of his personality.

It's the other door-to-door PLN employees that I can't take.
The ones who take advantage of the accounts payable date falling
on a public holiday. Last year there was a public holiday on a
Friday and Saturday, with the due date falling on the Saturday.
On this occasion, I unfortunately forgot about the bill until the
Thursday night. On the Monday morning I was rudely awakened by
the eternal doorbell and, of course, it was PLN insisting they
had to disconnect my electricity.

I actually thought my husband had paid the bill, but since he
was out of town I couldn't ask him. And the receipt wasn't
anywhere to be found. And so, not being sure, I apologized
profusely and promised to go to the PLN office promptly and
settle my account.

Well that wasn't good enough. He insisted that he had been
sent to cut off my electricity and he couldn't leave without
doing so. So I asked him what would happen if there was nobody
home. The electricity meter is inside our locked garage and
access can't be gained unless there is someone home. I don't
remember what his reply was, but it was no go.

The discussion went on for over half an hour with me finally
shedding all pretense of politeness and instead becoming
flustered. So I called my in-laws, who live nearby. They also
could make no headway with this guy. His final argument was that
he had come all this way and his transportation costs couldn't go
to waste. He wouldn't leave without a crisp pink banknote in his
hot little hand. Strange how he could leave the white notice
which, before smelling money, couldn't be parted with unless the
electricity had been disconnected.

It's more than likely that over a period of five years or so
each and every household, sooner or later, will forget to pay at
least one bill on time. I know late payments have to be
addressed, but to arrive on one's doorstep with a severance
notice dated two days after a bill is due is a bit hard to take.
In eight years of living at my present address, I have only
failed to pay my electricity bill, on time, twice.

On the 23rd of last month another PLN man rang my bell. Lucky
for him it wasn't an eternal ring and it didn't wake me up
because, as it was, I was in a bad enough mood already. I ripped
into him anyway. My husband, yet again, was away and he hadn't
brought the receipt home. But I was pretty sure the bill had been
paid and I told this man that he could just go away empty handed
because I'd be damned if I was going to play that game again.

He said something to the effect that since I was sure it was
paid everything was fine, but that he still had to leave me the
white slip. And I was flabbergasted that he left it without being
given any money and without getting anywhere near my meter.

So, what's the moral of this story? That in Jakarta it pays to
be on the defensive and downright rude? It certainly seems that
way to me. I've learnt over the years that the only way to keep
people off your back when they have no business being there is to
have a permanent scowl on your face and act like you were brought
up in the gutter.

And I have PLN to thank for that invaluable lesson.

-- Linda Hollands