Not Taking Account Of Your Account Of Events

(This occurs about a month after my father passes away. I have been working to get various accounts closed. The one I’m having issue with is his phone carrier. Since I am not authorized to access his account, I have no luck until a monthly payment comes due. Before now, the workers wouldn’t discuss anything with me, understandably, for legal reasons. However, unknown to me, his bank account — which my name was on and has since closed — is set up to autopay to his cell phone. Therefore, I am finally able to get them cooperate with me a bit.)

Worker: “Ma’am, the payment for Mr. [Father] is due and it is [amount].”

Me: “Ma’am, I need you to listen very carefully. [Father] is dead. He died three weeks ago. I’ve been trying to close his account with you guys. I am not paying for a dead man’s account. His name is [Father]. His number was [number]. I even have his SSN and am more than willing to fax you a copy of his death certificate I am currently holding.”

(Line is silent for a few minutes.)

Worker: “Okay. Just a moment, ma’am.”

(Many more minutes go by.)

Worker: “Do you have [other service] with us?”

Me: “Ma’am, I am trying to close my deceased father’s account. To the best of my knowledge ,all he had was your phone service. Please cancel his service.”

(More minutes go by. I can hear her typing something. At one point I hear her talking and laughing with what I assume is a coworker. I am beyond frustrated by this whole ordeal, but continue to silently wait and try to be polite.)

Worker: “Okay, ma’am, it looks like I can send it back to his bank account.”

Me: “Ma’am, his bank account is closed. That is why you weren’t paid.”

Worker: *another long pause* “Looks like I can only send it back to the bank; you’ll have to talk with them.”

Me: *sighs* “All right, thank you. Is his account closed, though?”

Worker: “Yes, ma’am.”

Me: “Thank you.”

(I’m not sure what she’s talking about, so I go back to the bank and wait to speak to a banker so that I can clear this entire mess. I begin to explain the situation to him when there’s a knock on the glass. A see a young woman smiling and happily waving at him.)

Banker: “Hey, [Young Woman]!” *gets up and goes to hug and speak with her*

(I just sit there, floored by this display, but southern politeness kicks in, so instead of yelling at them I glare as hard as possible.)

Banker: *finishes talking to her then turns to see my glare* “I… s-sorry. Sh-she used to work here. She’s going to college. Uh—” *clears his throat*

Me: “How nice.” *explains the situation finally*

Banker: *types on his computer and cross-checks the account number, my ID, and my father’s death certificate a few times* “Okay, looks like everything is cleared up.”

Me: “I shouldn’t have any more issues? No more auto-payments on there?”

Banker: “Nope!” *wide smile* “And please, take this with you, should you ever want to open your own account with us.”

Me: “Thank you.”

(I tossed the pamphlets in plain view into a nearby trash-can.)