Everyone is a Provider
In the doctor’s office waiting room a voice called my name and said, “Your provider will see you now.” Will it be a nurse? X-ray technician, first year intern? acupuncturist? A volunteer who offers water and snacks before my appointment? A physician? It could be any of these.
In the car repair waiting room a voice called my name, “Your provider will see you now.” The receptionist with forms to fill out? The parts department representative? The insurance company representative? A sales rep. who wants to sell me a new car? The mechanic representative? It could be any of these.
The TV stopped working. I called my service provider. The people who answered were 12,000 miles away. They didn’t speak my language—well, maybe a little—enough to tell me “Unplug da, da, da, then wait one minute. I will be sending signal.” I waited one minute as ordered and then heard, “Will work now. Thank you for being our customer.”
“But the TV still doesn’t work,” I shouted into the phone while stamping my feet. But my service provider had gone and was already on some other call. I realized I would need an hour of therapy before I could deal with my service provider again.
My plumber is also a provider. I called a plumber, and they told me their providers were all booked until next week. “But didn’t you hear me?” I cried, “Water is gushing from an outdoor faucet. I don’t want a provider; I want a plumber! By next week, the entire neighborhood will be flooded.”
Next, I heard, “We have emergency service providers at night. Please call back after 8:00pm to schedule an emergency service provider.”
A board came loose on my newly installed floor. The company would send a provider to take care of it, but first I had to fill out the 20-page online form, give them my credit card, the last four digits of my social security number, every place I have lived in the last 20 years, and three references. Maybe I could fix the floor myself. Maybe I didn’t need a provider, just a YouTube Video.
Even my new Ring Doorbell has a service provider. I told this provider, also answering from 12,000 miles away, “A week after my Ring Doorbell was installed, I could no longer see the video of who came to my door. This is why people buy Ring Doorbells—to see who came to the door, or to see who rang the bell.”
My service provider pointed out, “If you want to see the video you have to buy a monthly subscription.”
WTH? Will my new washer work for six months, then stop at the rinse cycle? Will my service provider tell me I need a monthly subscription if I want to rinse my clothes? Will my service provider tell me that I need a subscription to charge my new electric toothbrush every two weeks? Will my sprinkler system work for only three weeks before I must sign up for a subscription to turn the water on? Increasing in price, depending on how many times a week I want to water my lawn. I had a new furnace installed last year. Maybe I will have to have a monthly subscription to turn it on each time I need heat.
I got a bill in the mail from my health insurance for $0.00—yes, $0.00 Then after a month of not paying this bill, I received a call from my insurance service provider to find out when I was going to pay my bill. I told them, “The bill is for the amount of zero. That means I don’t owe anything.”
“You can pay by credit card, Check, PayPal, or Venmo. Which do you prefer?
“But the balance is zero,” I protested, trying to keep from screaming.
“If we don’t get payment within the next month, your bill will be sent to collections and your credit rating will be affected. Goodbye and have a good day.” WTH! I wrote a check for $0.00 and sent it to my insurance service provider. I knew that it would cost them at least $40 to process the payment.
My lawn service providers come four times a year to fertilize, kill weeds, etc. to keep my small patch of green (as required by my homeowner’s association) looking good. After a year, my service providers told me that I had an insect problem in the lawn and that the treatment would be an additional subscription. The following year my service provider found bugs in the shrubs—that was an additional subscription—oh, and the next year there were mosquitos. “Remember that wet early summer”—and “You don’t want to catch West Nile Virus from an errant mosquito. That is an additional subscription.” Do I really need that parade of people coming with canisters of chemicals specific for each weed, blade of grass, and bug? And besides, I love dandelions. But I couldn’t just cancel these service providers. They had my credit card and could just keep using it, year after year, even if I called to cancel. My credit card company said I actually had to cancel my credit card to get rid of these service providers.
I want to go back to the days when doctors were doctors, mechanics were mechanics, plumbers were plumbers, and my lawn service provider just mowed the grass.