As we all know, there are a lot of stressful issues you have to
deal with after the holidays that you don’t have to deal with the
rest of the year: getting on the scale, finding matching snow
boots, trying to get the fake Christmas tree back into the box and
so on. But let me just say there’s nothing as shocking and mind
boggling as the arrival of the first winter electricity bill.
As we all know, there are a lot of stressful issues you have to deal with after the holidays that you don’t have to deal with the rest of the year: getting on the scale, finding matching snow boots, trying to get the fake Christmas tree back into the box and so on. But let me just say there’s nothing as shocking and mind boggling as the arrival of the first winter electricity bill.
Now you might think this is just a column of sour grapes. And, well, it is. But I bet, unless you’re the type who lives off the land or in a nice Amish community, you know exactly what I mean.
It’s not like we haven’t tried to cut back on our energy consumption. Believe me, we’ve switched off extra lights and have not run appliances during peak hours and all that. But, really, there’s only so far you can go before you find yourself walking around the house wearing a snow suit and mittens and heating up soup with a stress-free aromatherapy candle.
Now don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against the power company. After all, we all know it’s just a gigantic helpless monopoly trying to do its job. But the truth of the matter is, the whole issue of energy rates is fairly complex. It’s a mysterious mathematical process having to do with therms and tiers and percentages. It’s sort of like figuring out how much you’d have to pay for knock-off pair of Prada shoes on the double markdown clearance table at Nordstroms. But it’s worse. Much, much worse
A friend of mine, who works for the power company, once tried to explain the rate system to me. And I’m sure he was very eloquent, but it sounded something like, “The rate is calculated by finding the number of base therms then dividing it by the total daily kilowatts then adding 10 percent of the third tier, and then multiplying the whole thing by the number of hours it takes to walk from New York to California.” Of course, maybe I misheard him.
So this year, after I got our first winter bill, I did what any concerned consumer would do: I called the power company and explained my situation in a calm and intelligent manner.
Our conversation went something like:
Me: Help! This is an emergency!
Big Power Company: Just remain calm, Ma’am. Is it a gas leak? A blown transformer?
Me: No, my bill is way too high!
Big Power company: Bu-
Me: I mean, you can’t expect a family of four to pay that amount. Clearly there’s been some kind of horrible miscalculation!
Big Power Company: But we-
Me: I suspect that some numbers were inverted or added or multiplied or your machinery is faulty. And don’t even try to pin it on the one light-up reindeer I had in the front yard last month. I demand a recount! This is robbery, I say! Robbery!
Big Power Company: Mrs. Farmer, is that you?
That’s the thing about power companies. There’s really no way around them. Face it, as unbelievable it seems, they don’t care if you have to skip buying mocha lattes and fresh fruit just to pay your bill. But things could be worse. You could be like my friend Shirley, whose husband, after a particularly shocking statement, spent thousands of dollars re-insulating the attic, replacing the windows, and upgrading all of the appliances.
Expensive? Yes. Unreasonable? Maybe. But, hey, so is having to pay a bazillion dollars a month for something you can’t even SEE.
But me, I think I’m going to take a more Zen-like approach. From now on, whenever I get the electric bill, I’m going to breathe slowly and, in the words of my friend Linda, “open my inner chakra,” whatever that may be.
Then I’ll unplug all of the appliances and hope for an early spring.
