Monopoly

I knew there was a problem the minute I turned on the shower faucet and nothing came out. It only took me an hour and a half to figure out that the problem was not on my end – some thoughtful soul, unmindful of my personal hygiene, had taken the great liberty of disconnecting my water supply.

This was actually not a good day to have an unscheduled drought. I had an important meeting that afternoon that I could not afford to miss, and I could hardly show up for work in my natural, uncultivated earthiness. Being late and missing the meeting altogether wasn’t an attractive option either.

I really did not want to call the water company, but short of digging a well in my backyard with my bare hands and a spoon I had no other options. So I called them, and after being told for forty-five minutes that my call was important I was, by a freak chance, connected to a real, live, human being.

“Hello, my name is Beatrice,” a pleasant voice said on the other end. “Thank you for waiting. How may I help you today?”

“Yes, my water has been turned off,” I replied. “I’d like to know why.”

“Can I have your account number, please?” Beatrice asked.

I gave it. A few minutes later the operator spoke up. “Your water has not been turned off,” she replied.

“It most certainly has! Nothing is coming out of any faucets in my entire house, and as best I can tell the pipes leading into my house are dry. Someone has definitely turned off my water.”

“Let me check something,” she replied. I heard a few keystrokes in the background, and then a stifled yawn. A few moments later she spoke up again. “It looks like your neighbor has not paid their water bill in quite some time,” she began.

“How terrible,” I said. “A true travesty of justice!”

“A worker was dispatched yesterday to turn off their water,” she continued.

“That seems like a good countermove,” I agreed. “No payment – no service.”

“From what I can tell,” Beatrice continued, “it would appear that the house number in the shutoff order was miskeyed. The actual work order instructed our agent to turn off your water instead of your neighbor’s.”

“How wonderful! I’m sure that’s going to be very effective in convincing my neighbor to start paying his bill. When can you send someone to reconnect it?”

“Oh, we can send someone out today, but you must first pay the reconnect fee.”

I nearly dropped the phone. “Excuse me?”

“It’s right here in the manual. ‘In the event of a disconnection, the customer must pay a $200 reconnect fee before their water may be reconnected.'” she read aloud.

“But this isn’t my fault!” I protested. “I have been paying my bills! It’s my barbaric neighbors that have failed to live up to their contractual obligations!”

“It’s company policy, sir. There are no exceptions.”

I could feel my blood pressure rising. “But I’m not at fault here! You can’t charge me $200 to fix a problem that you caused!”

“The policy has no exceptions, sir,” Beatrice said coldly. “Your water has been disconnected. You must pay the fee to have it reconnected. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Who do you think you are? You can’t just turn my water off just because you feel like it! I have my rights!”

“Our policy dictates that we can terminate your service at any time,” she said. “The company does not need a reason. If you wish to continue your service you can call us back and pay the fee.”

“And what if I’m not interested in your crummy service?”

“We are the only water provider in your area,” Beatrice replied.

“I can always dig a well,” I pointed out.

“County zoning ordinances prohibit digging wells. Doing so would deplete the water table and violate local environmental policies. Have a nice day.” And with that, I was disconnected.

The water company had me in a real bind. There was only one thing to do, and I did it: I sold my house and moved to a different state – one of freedom and tranquility, where a man is allowed to govern his own water supply in peace. As for my neighbors, well, I don’t think the water company ever managed to successfully disconnect their water supply. Last I heard, the people that purchased my house were looking at property in my haven of liberty. Apparently, freedom and good hygiene can be contagious.