I called my contact at the insurance company yesterday. Yes, I have my own person. Her name is Janet. Apparently, my case is just that complicated.
Janet lives in upstate New York. She works from home. Her family all live on the same street. For lunch every day, she goes over to her father's house. She also helps out her daughter, who lives just up the street with her own little girl; her daughter's husband died after they'd been married only two or three years. It was either a car accident or cancer, I forget.
You would think that the fact that I know all of this means that Janet and I have developed something of a relationship. Nope. It's just that Janet has that TMI thing going. Notice that I didn't tell you about her various medical ailments, but I've been privy to those, too.
Anyway, I called Janet. Uncharacteristically, she answered, which was great, because she almost never returns her calls. We talked. She said she'd send a check out that very day and would call me by 4pm to let me know it was done. I thanked her, knowing that she would probably do neither.
I don't know if she sent out the check, but she never did call.
Sometimes Janet gets right on something and does what she says she'll do. Other times, nothing. Actually, most times, nothing. Then I keep calling and calling. By the time I finally reach her weeks later, of course she no longer remembers what I'm calling about. And since I have my own insurance person, who is somehow detached from the rest of the system, I wouldn't even know where to go to contact her supervisor. And that might even prove counterproductive. After all, sometimes Janet follows through!
Dealing with Janet is like dealing with a slot machine. Just keep pulling the handle. One of these times, money will come pouring out of the machine! I feel like one of those pigeons in a Skinner Box, who will peck at the little button until their beaks literally start to smoke, because sometimes, every now and then, they will be rewarded by a food pellet.