I used to have Netflix. I loved Netflix. (Sometimes.) I just never used it. Eighteen dollars a month isn’t bad when you watch twelve movies in those thirty days, but math gets flipped upside down and sideways when you only screen three or four. So I cancelled.
This necessitated ocassionally patronizing a brick and mortar rental establishment, especially when wanting to show the Girl a movie or two. I avoided this whenever possible, and stopped at one in particular only two or three times during the winter.
Several months ago – April to be exact – I got a letter from Blockbuster. Apparently one of my rentals was not returned on time (incorrect) and I owed them twelve bucks. No late fees, of course, but if you don’t return it within the “grace period” they sell you the film. Fine, whatever – no small change like that is worth wrecking a credit report over, and they were farming it out to a collection agency, so I paid the fee over the web.
Which brings us to last week. At work I get a call from some kid at Blockbuster in Carbondale telling me that I didn’t return Leap of Faith on time and that “it’s mine to pick up.” Oh, and that I owe him $12.33, exactly the fee I paid before.
Bollocks, says I. “I paid that months ago. Did it through the web.” He counters, meekly, that they don’t offer such a service – or so he thinks, at least. I don’t even bother to argue about whether or not the video was just returned on time, since such things are unprovable, and tell him I paid. Of course, this could have been for a different rented video, but the odds of this seem silly to me, especially since I should have received a notice.
He calls back a few minutes later after “checking his records” to reaffirm that, yes indeed, I owe them money; there was no payment made. Of course, I checked my records too: God bless online banking and bill payment. Not only do I have a debit on my checking account for early April, but a receipt in my email from the online payment. That befuddles him as I read the receipt, and confirmation number, verbatim, and he asks for the number again as he mutters something about “not writing the disc off until May.” Whatever.
“Well, um, can you come into Blockbuster…uh, where are you now?”
“I’m in Fairview Heights. I live nowhere near Carbondale, and have no plans to come into any Blockbuster, especially since I plan to never step foot in one again.”
(Awkward silence.)
“I’ll get with my manager and, uh, have her call you back.”
That was Wednesday. Still no word back.
There remains the possibility that this is for a second DVD instead of the first one I paid for, and I do “owe them money,” but given that no discs rented were returned late, that really irks me. Odds are they just dropped it, not wanting to quibble over a silly twelve bucks and change, which would go a long way towards making me a customer again.
Not really.
