When my sister IMed me on Friday, my mind couldn’t have been farther away from music. I mean, how could I think about exciting happy things when I had only hours before realized that I was driving an uninsured car?
Let’s rewind a bit.
Thursday night, Mike handed me my mail. This happens a lot. I almost always forget to get the mail. I then almost always just kind of give it half a glance and throw it into the pile on the table. This drives Mike nuts. Yet, somehow, I am unable to fix this terrible habit of mine. Luckily, on Thursday, I had the presence of mind to actually read the return addresses on my new mail. One thing caught my eye.
The RMV? They already sent me the change-of-address stickers for my license and registration. What the hell could this be?
So I opened it, and read it. Baffled, I read it again. By this point, Mike’s curiosity took over and he asked me what it was. He probably developed this curiosity because I was swearing and making all kinds of upset-Diane noises. Basically, I had just received a letter telling me that my registration would be revoked on August 4th if I didn’t get them proof of insurance. Dun dun dunnnnnn!
Mike looked at it and told me what I already knew. “Call your insurance people first thing in the morning.” So I did.
When I called my lovely local insurance rep, I started with my back story. I have a new job, my old job used to take care of my insurance for me, I guess I have to renew my insurance myself, can I please do that now, yada, yada, yada… She interrupted me. “It tells me here that your insurance was terminated. Please hold.”
What the fuck?!
Luckily I didn’t have too much time to stew before some kind of “tier two” support answered the line. I gave her the same story, and she told me that my insurance was canceled because I didn’t pay. Funny enough, I vividly remembered paying them.
I told her that, and she said she would look for more information and call me back. It was just about noon, but I waited for a while for her call before deciding I was far too hungry to just sit there. So I hurried my ass over to Au Bon Pain and bought myself a soup, a chunk of bread, and a cookie. The soup and bread were to nourish my body. The cookie was for my crying soul.
I ate at my desk, patiently (okay, not patiently) waiting the return call. It didn’t come. I finished my soup. It didn’t come. I chomped down the last bit of bread. It didn’t come. I nibbled my cookie until it was gone. It didn’t come. I came to realize that she had just let me off the phone so she could have lunch. Bitch.
So I did what any person freaking out about their car insurance would do. I called them back at 1:01. Tier-two answered the phone herself. She explained the situation to me and told me how it would be. Premier says they haven’t received payment. So they canceled my policy. They informed the registry. They informed my insurance brokers. No one told me. Why the hell did I have to learn this from the registry when it was too late?
I had done some research too, by the time I called back. I figured out that the insurance payment I had made was in fact for my renters insurance, not my car insurance. They are handled by different companies. I used to have both deducted from my paycheck, so I never noticed or had to pay attention. So when a bill came from Travelers about insurance, I paid it and thought I was good to go. Not the case. Even though I have the same brokers for both insurances, they are not actually the same insurance company.
I was fuming. But I knew there was no way I could undo any mistakes – mine or their’s. I told her that I would do whatever was necessary to get my car insured and immediately because I had places to go and famous people to see. That’s when she told me I’d have to pay in full for the next year.
But like I said, my car needs insuring, and I need to drive it. So we made arrangements. Totally illegal arrangements. Because their nearest office is still far outside the range of the T, so I’d have to drive my uninsured car to them.
I told my group lead I’d have to leave work early. I told Mike everything that happened. He tried to help me find some way to get it done in Boston, but it wasn’t possible because I’d need a receipt for the overdue insurance no matter what, and my rink-a-dink insurance brokers wouldn’t take any kind of payment over the phone or by fax. So, when 3:30 rolled around, I took off.
I felt like a fugitive…