Loyalty

In the beginning, we had a telephone. In the nineties in the north of England, this was not a given; people in shops or offices would inquire 'Are you on the 'phone?' if they needed contact information. We had broadcast television, just the four terrestrial channels, eventually joined with much fanfare by a fifth. Later, we got internet. Dial-up at first-- eeeeyaw-eee-kkkk-eee-- then broadband. In our household, the silence of broadband was its most notable advantage; the squawking dial-up connection inevitably woke the sleeping baby.

With the arrival of children we also acquired a library of video entertainment: Teletubbies, Bob the Builder, Fireman Sam, Postman Pat (and his black-and-white cat), and our family favourite, Eddie Stobart's Steady Eddie series. Our VCR ranneth over. We were sated, and costs were reasonable. I do just vaguely remember wanting to pull my hair out at the tenth repetition of 'Can we build it? Yes we can!'

In Canada the ante got upped when we had to register anew for all services, all at once. As with so much else in Toronto, the price of the total package shocked us. But the kids were thrilled because we had cable. Hundreds and thousands of channels! And we got a PVR, which soon filled with recordings of 'I Carly' and Premier League football matches.

We moved house and lost the television service; something to do with the wiring. After a few months we noticed that we were still paying for it, and had firm words with the provider, Bell Canada, and felt grown-up and competent; we were keeping an eagle eye, or at least an eye, on our finances. And yet somehow the bill for telecoms services seemed to grow. Or had it always been thus? We thought it might be like those distorted memories of early parenthood, when babies chortled and cooed and never cried or pooed.

At last, with eldest son's gentle but firm guidance, we Took Steps. We contacted a new upstart start-up internet provider and asked what they could do for us. Quite a lot, it turned out, and, pleased with ourselves, we prepared a Dear John call to Bell. Sayonara, swindlers!

Not so fast, alas. We delivered our stern words.  'Oh, dear, you have an expired package,' said a friendly woman in the Loyalty Department, in New Brunswick, clucking sympathetically. She sounded so kind, and worked out such a shiny new deal, that she persuaded us to stay with Bell rather than switch to the new company, which could not match the offer.

But the plain truth is that we've overpaid Bell by hundreds if not thousands of dollars for the last two years, and they've happily allowed us to do so. In other words, we've gone right back to the abuser.