At some point in all of our lives, we’re going
to have to deal with death, as uncomfortable as that is to think about. It’s
either going to be the demise of a loved one or, eventually, of ourselves. It’s
important to be as prepared as possible when you lose someone significant in
your life, so, by way of stressing the importance of that, I’m going to tell
you a little tale.
My late husband and I had separate cell phones. He handled his
bill, and I handled mine. What I didn’t realize when he got his cell phone was
that, because we bought them in complete ignorance, he put his name down as the only authorized user.
That is a huge mistake. Don’t do it, and I’ll tell you why.
We were some of the last holdouts when it came to having cell
phones. I don’t think we got them until my husband spotted our garbage man with
a phone wedged between his ear and shoulder while he was lifting our cans into
the truck. That’s when he apparently realized that perhaps we were the last people
on the planet without cell phones.
But that’s not important.
What is important is that when he got his phone, he was
listed as the only authorized user, and when he passed away, that became a problem.
He used T-Mobile. Let that be a warning to you.
When I sought to shut down his cell phone service, I took the
phone and his death certificate into one of the local T-Mobile stores. They
refused to cancel it. The sales clerk (and they do hire some dim ones at T-Mobile) told
me that because I was not the authorized user, I couldn’t cancel the service.
It had to be the authorized user.
I kept flashing the death certificate in front of his face,
trying to explain the concept of end of life to this man, but he just wasn't having it.
So, before I walked out of the store, I told him, “Look, I’m not
paying any more of these bills. And because he’s dead, he’s not going to be
making any more phone calls. At least, I don’t expect him to.”
That was not the end of it, of course.
The bills started coming.
Each time one arrived, I wrote "DECEASED -- RETURN TO SENDER" on it and popped it back into the mail.
I did this three times.
The bills kept coming.
Eventually, T-Mobile turned my dead husband over to collections.
At this point, I had just about had it.
So I decided I was going to write them a letter and do something
very special to drive my point home.
I wrote the letter as friendly as I could manage through gritted
teeth. I explained that my husband had passed away, that I had gone to the
local store with his death certificate, and that I had tried to shut off the
phone. For whatever reason, they wouldn’t accept it.
So I told them that since I couldn’t seem to get through to
them, they could take it up with my late husband, who was enclosed.
What I did was this:
Before I folded the letter and put it into the envelope, I went
into the fireplace with a little shovel, scooped out some of the ashes, and
carefully put them into the letter.
Then I folded it up, slid it into the envelope, sealed it, and
sent it on its merry way.
Let me just tell you something. I never heard from them again.
I have often wondered what the person who opened that letter
thought when the ashes came tumbling out onto his or her desk (or perhaps into
his or her lap).
Imagine reading a perfectly ordinary customer-service letter and
suddenly discovering that you have been covered in [what you think are] cremains.
Sometimes you have to take extreme measures.
So save yourself the trouble. Make sure there is more than one
authorized user on your cell phone account. Better yet, make sure someone you
trust knows exactly how to deal with your accounts if something happens to you.
And, based on my experience, avoid T-Mobile at all costs.
That’s the lesson for this month, folks.
This story is part
of my series Life on Planet Pattie, about the foibles of life, resilience, and
the occasional furniture-moving adventure.
You might also enjoy:
A
Fall Tradition Gone Slightly Awry
Perils of Pattie: Kissing the Pavement
Hilarious 80s Mom Fail: The Pepperoni That Stole
the Show at Pizza Hut
The Great Potting Soil Heist (and Other Adventures
in Independent Living)
Clean
and Presentable, or so I thought.
A
Winter-Weathered Miracle Under the Chair
My
Dance with the Devil
Nothing
Is Ever Simple (Featuring a Refrigerator and My — GASP! — Underwear)
Refrigerator
Roulette, Round Two
Rounding out each place setting is a tiny rustic wooden candleholder. These little touches bring a bit of woodland charm to
the table and complement the pine cone candleholders and bittersweet berries. 
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