ISP

(con't)

This correspondence was drafted July 10, 2017.

In the meantime, I've discovered my address never was in an area you serve. I did not receive that information from your offices, by the way. I had to go to a competitor before verifying with another one of your representatives ... if only they had been so forthcoming earlier. Was the first agent I spoke to able to retain his commission?

Now, here we are in September, after quite a few twists and convolutions, while you people must have stood around the water cooler, making predictions with chicken bones and which way the wind would be blowing until Voila! the computer program pipes up with a number, a different one on each day in fact, and makes its predictions, one of which is the most auspicious charge to bill my non-existent account.

Well, I have news for you. My account doesn't exist, nor was any service rendered. Therefore, I have deduced your accounting department is a figment of my imagination. I don't owe REDACTED a bill conjured from the ether and remitted to your dreams. Nor can I sue a ghost for lost time, seek damages incurred in a nightmare, let alone deny your staff complicit as I ran around in circles.
 
Noting these difficulties, I suggest you look for other work - I don't know how you're getting paid.
 
You should look into it.

can't tap my feet
for fear they'll hear it
through the floor --
musk melons