Communicating the Problem

“I see,” said Roxie, my wife, “you’re working on a computer puzzle. You gonna call your health insurance company?”

“Yes. The last time I was on the phone thirty minutes before I talked to a real person.”

“I’m leaving, so I don’t hear you yell,” said Roxie.

I placed the call to Medi-Agape Health Insurance Company. A recording came on, speaking first in Spanish, then Chinese, then German.

I said, “I can’t understand you.”

The speaker said in a monotone voice. “I hear you speaking English.”

“Yes, I want English.”

“British, Australian, American—"

I stopped working on the puzzle. “American.”

In a Southern accent, the voice said, “Say or enter your membership number.”

At least the language was something that I could understand.

I said, “MHI#7859T3962D410.

“Say or enter your name.”

“Jacque Garnier.”

“Jake?”

“No. Jacque. J-a-c-q-u-e.” Then I muttered, “and your b-day.”

“Say or enter your birthday.”

“April 9, 1975.”

“Say or enter your plan name.”

“How should I know? You’re the one with the records.”

“Please repeat your insurance plan name.”

Gritting my teeth, I said, “Customer Service Rep.”

“I still don’t understand. I will connect you with a representative.”

Finally. A real person.

The person said something with some sort of thick accent.

“You have such a thick accent, I can’t understand you.”

The person spoke again, but all I understood was ‘English’.

“Yes,” and quickly added “American”.

The Southern accent voice came on again. “How can I help you?”

“I need you to pay my prescription.”

“What is the name of your prescription?”

“Let me get my bottle….I don’t know how to pronounce it, so I’ll spell it: l-e-v-t-i-r-a-c-e-t-a-m.”

The puzzle was more appealing than the conversation, but I kept my hand off the mouse. “Dr. Pierce ordered it. Don’t you have my records?”

“We have all your records. There is a Dr. Pierce, but he did not order a prescription within the last month.”

“It was seizure medicine.”

“Are you sure of the doctor?”

Roxie, my wife, entered the room. I turned on the speaker phone so she could listen.

“Yes. Dr. Pierce is a neurologist.”

“You will have to make an appointment and get a prescription.”

When I rubbed my eyes to stop the blurriness of my vision, Roxie opened her eyes wider and stood up straighter. “Will you pay for the appointment?” I demanded.

“No.”

“I want to speak to your supervisor.”

"You did. You complained about a thick accent.”

“I’m getting tired of this conversation.” I swallowed hard as I had odd taste sensations.

“Are you so tired you had to take the elevator to the doctor? Is that why you will not go to the doctor?”

“That’s not it! I want to complain about how you’re not paying for my seizure medicine.”

“What is the date you first went in for your condition?”

I turned to my wife. “Do you remember when I first started going to Dr. Pierce?”

“I’m not sure, it’s been so long ago.”

“I can’t remember the exact date. Don’t you have my records?”

“We have a record of a fall on September 19, 2002.”

“That’s it? That’s the latest you have? I remember now. I started having seizures after my car accident. I think that was ’22.”

“Twenty-two seizures?”

“No. The year. You imbecile.”

“Your car accident occurred on May 3, 2022.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. I was getting through. “Yes. I remember it being springtime.”

“You were discharged from the hospital. Your case has been closed as of June 15, 2025.”

“Why? I’m still having seizures. At my last appointment,” I said the name slowly, “Dr. Renato Pierce said he would turn it in to you. And now you won’t pay.”

I looked at my hands. They were tingling. My wife noticed me looking at my hands.

“It was not faxed to me.”

I had to think about that answer. “Not you personally. The company.”

He didn’t answer.

“Are you still there?” I asked.

“Your statements are not confirmed elsewhere in our system.”

“That’s ridiculous. I talked to Dr. Pierce. He said the prescription was faxed to your company. That was the same day I had at my last appointment with him three weeks ago. And my policy doesn’t have to be renewed for three months. So, why won’t you pay?”

“Because your statements are false.”

I could feel my forehead getting tight as my blood pressure rose. “I’m not a liar.”

“I did not call you a liar. If you are sick, you need to hang up and go to an emergency room.”

“That’s right,” said Roxie.

“I am not sick, but I feel a seizure coming on from the stress you’re giving me. And I don’t have any medicine for it.” I couldn’t stop my voice from getting louder. “Because your company won’t pay according to the plan.”

“You need to stop talking to him now,” Roxie said.

“If you feel stress, have someone else call this company. We would be happy to talk to them.”

“No you won’t. My wife tried to call. She’s right here. She can tell you she tried. And you guys told her it had to be me to call because she’s not on my health insurance policy.”

“Get off that phone now.” My wife glared at me.

The room was starting to turn in circles for me.

“How can I help you?” said the voice.

I felt like I had come full circle.

“Are you a moron. I just want you to pay for my medicine.”

“My IQ is 150. I have perfect memory. I know everything.”

“NOW or I'll take your cell phone." said Roxie, “That's what I did last time."

“Everything, huh? What will happen to me next?”

“I do not know the future.

“You never said, ‘I understand’ or ‘I’m sorry’. Are you real?”

Roxie saw my dizziness and red cheeks. “Are you having a seizure?” she asked me.

“I am programmed,” the voice said, “to respond correctly to callers.”

My wife grabbed the cell phone and interrupted to say, “He can’t answer any more.”

“Have a nice day,” the AI voice said.

But I never heard it. I blacked out.