November 10, 2010
I really love my propane company. They ask about my kids, their customer service is over the top, they keep my family warm and alive. But you know what? I absolutely hate my propane company at the very same time. It's not their fault, but I despise the fact that I have to spend my hard earned money on heat instead of candy.
Back in August, I was running by the propane company when I decided to stop for a drink from the spigot on the side of their building. Just as I was not washing the sweat out from under my armpits, Dave, my friendly local heating buddy popped out of the side door and said, "Hey Amy. Are you pre-buying this year or do you want to do the budget plan?"
Didn't I say they had fantastic customer service?
So I was like, "Dave. You think I can afford to pre-buy? Do I freaking look like Paris Hilton to you? Of course I'm doing the budget plan." And two days later the contract came in the mail.
For those of you who live in the warmer weather states, the budget plan allows you to lock in your propane price for the entire season, and break the cost up into convenient and affordable monthly installments. Yay!
So the contract came in August, and to be 100% completely honest with you, it's still sitting on my desk.
I don't know where the fear comes from, but every time I sign that heating contract, I feel like I flushing my future down the toilet. Whenever I pick up the pen and work up the nerve to scribble on the dotted line, the devil spits tricky little phrases into my ear, like, "Imagine the vacations you could take with that money!" and, "Oh, come on, just make 'em wear sweatshirts this winter! They get plenty of heat at daycare!"
So far, he's won me over. But somehow, just like usual, my propane company outsmarted the devil by virtue of their most excellent customer service.
Just a few minutes ago, while I was sitting on my bed, ignoring Maggie's crying, I heard the *beep, beep, beep* of a truck reversing. It sounded just like the UPS truck (not that I'm any kind of expert on the UPS truck,since I never buy anything for myself--especially not without Jared's permission and blessing.) I jumped off my bed, absolutely thrilled to tear into the mystery package, and hoo boy, my heart sank to my feet when I saw the fuel truck.
How could that wretched old bubble-shaped truck be here? I never even signed that contract!
So I called Dave. I was like, "Dave. Why's the truck here! I never signed that contract! Maybe I don't want any heat this year!"
And he was all, "Really, Amy? You're forgoing heat?"
"No," I said, "but maybe I decided to go with another company."
"Pretty sure you didn't."
"Fine. But really, why'd the truck come?"
"Because it's November, in Maine, and Jared's probably freezing his nuts off."
They seem to know me better than I know myself. And that's why I love my propane company.