04 March 2022

It's Not A Refund - Yes, Another Raising Parent Story

 You guys. I mean...Just....sigh.

First off, poor Kevin who got an earful twice this afternoon.  

Then there was me flippantly saying "I need a drink" and Kevin sassing that there was alcohol in the refrigerator. Then that went into a conversation about when you say you NEED a drink is exactly when you DON'T have a drink and what were we talking about?

Oh, yeah.  The PARENTS.

Yes, again.

In addition to the whole meds issue, there was also an insurance issue.  Because of course there was.

Last week...I think...it's all a blur.  The parents mentioned that they were supposed to get an $1800 insurance refund due to the insurance change.  They said that it was because they had over-charged them, taking two premiums out past the termination date.

So, I was dumb enough to take that on face value.  When will I learn?  WHEN.

Last week, I spent every bit of an hour on the phone with the former insurance company.  I must have spoke to four people by the end of it.  Three of them verified that there was a refund due and that there was a check sent on January 20th for the amount the parents stated.   They said to give it until the 28th to arrive then if it didn't, phone them and they would reissue the check.

My father-in-law went to the post office every day for a week, bless his heart.  No check.

On Monday afternoon, I phoned the insurance company again.  About an hour and three transfers later, a fantastic gentleman named March said that there would need to be further investigation because while he saw everything that we were told, he couldn't find where it actually occurred or why.

Yeah, this isn't going to end well.

He asked me to phone back today (Friday) to see the result of the investigation.  Then I forgot. 

I got home late this afternoon and phoned.  I couldn't get March because there is no such thing as talking to the same representative anymore.  No worry though because the person could read all the notes.

It started good, all the information matched.  THEN, the determination was made that the incorrect wording was used.  It was an account ADJUSTMENT, not a refund.  As in, the insurance premium for the year was X.  Upon cancellation it was Y.  The difference, Z, was the "refund" that wasn't a refund.

"So, to be clear: I have to go tell my elderly parents that the $1800 refund is imaginary and they got their hopes up for no reason?"

To the representative's credit, they were quiet for a beat then replied "Yes, I'm very sorry to tell you that.  It was a mistake on behalf of the company."   Well, at least they owned it.

I phoned my f-i-l and asked him how they got to know about this refund?  He said they told him.  That's the information: they told him.  I didn't ask how the conversation started because I just can't wade into those waters.  

Then I explained that the company states it is an adjustment and not a refund.  This is where I say that he didn't seem surprised about this information.  THIS TELLS ME VOLUMES.  But let's set that aside for a minute.

I circled back to the "They took money out of the account."  I explained that it's on us to prove if they took money out after the cancellation.  Okay, he said.  They will work on that.  He insisted that not only did the original company take out premiums, so did the new one.  Like, each month.  I explained that January was for February, February was for March, etc.  It felt like he realized that he hadn't understood/made a mistake.  I finished the conversation and hung up.

I phoned Kevin so he had the same information and so I could just AAAAUUUGGGHHH.  He asked "Didn't you set up their banking account online?"  SHUT UP KEVIN.  Sigh, yes I did.  "Would you please, for everyone's sake, just look and see?  It will alleviate drama."

I booted up my laptop...did I mention that I was also finishing my work day?...and logged in.  Kevin sat on the phone while I went back to December first.  I don't see "extra" premiums.  I see exactly what was supposed to transpire. (transact?  Occur, I will go with occur.)  I printed everything then we hung up.

As I went out the back door, I noticed that their car is gone. They've already left for the bank.  Score one for them for initiative. No score for me for not anticipating that. I went to the house to make sure that the mom hadn't stayed home but they were both gone.

I phoned her and her phone goes directly to voicemail.  I call again.  Voicemail.

I phone my f-i-l who doesn't answer when driving but I figured she would answer his phone.  

"Why is your phone not working?"  She kind of sheepishly laughs and says "Oh, it doesn't work all the time."

DEEP BREATH.  "Well, you might mention that to the person who can FIX IT."

But really, we know the battery is dead or there is operator error.  

Moving on.

I explained that I had already printed their bank statement for them and that they didn't need to go to the bank.  Oh, wait, did I mention that part before? I think I did but here: They go to the bank to print out their account and/or spend I don't know how long on the phone with some poor customer service rep when they balance their account.

She just laughed and said thank you. Hmmm.  I explained to her that it's up to them to prove the insurance company took their money and that I couldn't see that they had.  "But I don't pay your bills so maybe you'll see something that I don't."    She agreed and was zero upset about this.

This also tells me that they may have misunderstood and that I've spent HOURS fixing a non-existent issue.  EXCEPT the initial phone call with the insurance company verified what the parents said.  AND BUT I don't know how that initial conversation began.  Did the parents phone the company or vice versa.

Tomorrow Kevin will wade into the warm, crazy waters and see what the parents discover.  This opens the door STILL AGAIN for the "You need help" conversation.  

The problem with this issue, specifically banking, is that I super don't want to be responsible.  I already know too much that I don't want to know.  

Happy DOGDAMNED Friday.

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