Overdue

Gordon Hull



There's nothing, there's nothing, there's nothing...

-- Bright Eyes

I got home from work yesterday, and opened my little metal mailbox in a sea of other little metal boxes just like mine, attached to the lobby wall of the warehouse I live in. They still haven't put my name or suite number on the door. The only way I can tell it's my mailbox is from memory, and an old piece of tape stuck to the front of its 4x4inch face. Amongst the usual things in the mail that I usually just look at and promptly throw in the trash was a promotion to get cable for half the regular price. I haven't watched television for over a year, and miss it not, finding the darkness of the cinema on a sunny afternoon to be a much more satisfying experience than flipping through content on the TV geared towards unhappy suburbanites. Mail in hand, I climbed the stairs up to my suite staring at the ad, and was roped in by the very cheap offer of 9.95/month for 6 months by the time I got to the fourth floor. I unlocked my door with dreams of hosting a huge grey cup party, and cozy evenings spent with friends drinking Courvoisier and watching the fall classic. I picked up the phone and dialed the number to order cable for the first time in years.

After briefly chatting about the benefits of having cable over the holiday season with my service representative Rachel, I had a vision of sitting by myself in my underwear Christmas morning watching It's a Wonderful Life, certainly that's not what she was getting at. I went on to choose a package, book an appointment, set an automatic billing account up through my chequing account, and then finally, to seal the deal, all I had to do was read Rachel my drivers license number. She said she would have to put me on hold while she processed the order and I was instantly transferred to the last bit of Summer of 69, by Bryan Adams. Humming along I waited patiently for Rachel to return. She cut into Bryan within a minute, saying that I had an outstanding debt from three years ago, and before she could go ahead with the account, I would have to pay 150.00$ immediately. I asked her the name on the outstanding account, she told me a name, my name, and this is what followed:

"Well that person is dead, he died almost three years ago, back in February of 2003, so I need a new account," I responded with confidence.

"I am sorry sir, what was that you said?"

"I said, he's dead, so I need to set up a new account."

"Excuse me, is your drivers license number not _______ ?"

"Yes."

"Well then, that is the person that set up the account in 2003, which is overdue, and that is you, and you sound very much alive to me."

"Oh, I am alive Rachel! I am very much alive, I assure you, but that person that owes you the money, he is dead. He just doesn't exist anymore, and I need a new account, for the new me."

"Right. Well if the new you wants cable, he's going to need 150.00$. Maybe the old you left you some money behind? Have a nice day."

The old me didn't leave the new me any money. Nothing at all really, some clothes that didn't fit, a few pictures of people I didn't recognize, and an empty home. Nothing was left of that poor soul when he finally slipped away into the night, and awoke in the morning, alone, and someone else. He's dead, and I certainly won't be responsible for the messes he left behind.

Which is why I will be watching the Classic in the bar downstairs.