Benicia's Watergate
I’m fighting with the city of Benicia. I know; I said before I was fighting with the library, but then I admitted later the whole fiasco was actually my fault, but this time it’s different. This time it’s so their fault.
Our first bad interaction was when a city employee hit our car. Our parked car. At 11 at night. The man who hit it was apologetic, and while it was inconvenient, we were forgiving. Accidents happen.
When the police officer showed up to file the report, though, he immediately remarked, “Again? You hit a car again? You guys are worse than the fire department!” That was maybe a little disturbing.
Months passed, and the city refused to pay our insurance company, so we couldn’t be reimbursed for the repair. At one point, someone from the city called and left a message on our answering machine, stating, “Your insurance company keeps hounding us to pay them, but we’re not going to because we at the city believe that if you want our money, you have to play by our rules.”
Maybe I don’t understand all the red tape, and maybe I’m oversimplifying this, but you hit our car. I’m pretty sure the next step is just that you, like, pay.
Fortunately, we have a killer insurance company. They saw the city was being difficult, reimbursed us, and said they would deal with collecting the money from Benicia. The insurance agent added, “Yeah, it’s not surprising. Of all the people we have to collect from, cities are the worst.”
Really. I would have thought it would be cocaine snorting, uninsured alcoholics. But, no, it’s cities like Benicia. Lovely.
End that battle. Now roll round two.
About a month ago, one of our outside pipes burst and started gushing water all over the neighborhood. We’re talking a pretty major leak. Several small children and dogs were found half a mile away, swept down the street by the current. We called the city to see if they’d fix it, and someone came out and generously said that, although the damaged pipe was our responsibility, our water box was broken, and the city was obligated to repair that. While repairing the box, they might be able to patch the leak. Awesome. We are all thankfulness. This guy is a stand up fellow.
They’re scheduled to come Monday. That’s days away, but not to worry. Since this guy is advising us to wait on the repair, he promises to call the city and explain so that we’re not charged for the excess water. There are lots more heartfelt thank yous.
Monday passes. Water still gushing.
Tuesday. Someone starts teaching impromptu surfing lessons on the endless waves coming from our house.
Wednesday. Neighbors keep coming by. They’re super polite. “Oh, did you happen to notice that, um, several species of fish now live in the flowing river you created, and raccoons and children fish in it?”
During this week, five or six people from the city come to inspect the leak. They each knock on my door, make my dog bark, wake my baby, and declare, “Yep. It’s leaking.”
After a week of waiting, our contact at the city calls back. They won’t have time to fix the leak or the box, possibly because they spend most of their time going door to door and diagnosing leaks. We can hire a plumber and someone to fix the box, and the city will reimburse us for the box. Fine. We can’t complain, since the leak was our responsibility.
But the charges for the excess water? Oh, we still won’t be responsible for any part of that, he promises.
A plumber comes the same day and fixes the leak. We don’t wait. We don’t waste excess water. That’s not how we roll.
Now the box. We get an estimate for having it installed, and I call the city to insure they’ll still reimburse us, as promised.
Wrong. They now claim that since we called a plumber, who removed the box to fix the leak, they will no longer reimburse us. Funny how none of this was mentioned before, when we were told to, um, call a plumber.
Plus, several people from the city came before the plumber and witnessed the box was already broken. They know the plumber didn’t break it. This apparently doesn’t matter. The rule stands.
So I say, eh, fine. The box has been broken since before we moved in, and we never even noticed. We won’t replace it.
No, the city now proclaims that, although the box was probably damaged when a dinosaur, roaming the earth, inadvertently stepped on it, it’s imperative that we pay to fix it. Now.
Is this not totally crazy? Is this democracy in America, I ask you? Is Michael Moore making a documentary about this?
But the bill at least. That will still be covered, obviously, since the promise that we wouldn’t have to pay it was repeated so frequently.
No! The city says they’ll pay half, and they never pay more. How could anyone have promised us otherwise? We complain, and a city worker investigates our case. He comes back and says that our contact at the city denies ever promising our water bill would be covered.
I get it that our contact at the city didn’t mean to be so misleading and deceptive. He probably honestly thought he was helping us out, promising to fix the pipes, then saying he couldn’t fix them but would reimburse us for the box, and, well, then saying he wouldn’t reimburse us for the cost and what were thinking assuming he would? When his boss questioned him about promising to comp our bill, he said what was necessary to protect his job. I get that. Even though it seems pretty manipulative, I still think he had good intentions. But that’s the thing about good intentions. They either pave the road to hell or win you a Nobel Prize. Since no one’s called me from Norway, I’m going to go with the former on this one.
I’d like to add a disclaimer. I love Benicia. I think there are lots of honest, hard working, wonderful people who work for the city. I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of interacting with any of them during these two incidents.
I don’t know what I hope to gain in writing this article. Nothing, really. I just wanted to publicly say, “That wasn’t cool.” And I want everyone out there who reads my articles—that’s right; both of you—to read this and say, “Yeah, man. That really wasn’t cool.” And, a little bit, I want the people responsible for everything to read it and say, “Whoa. That was me. I’m totally uncool.” I think that would make me feel better.
Well, that and a total reimbursement for all the money I lost. But if I could at least have the uncool part, that would be something.
Our first bad interaction was when a city employee hit our car. Our parked car. At 11 at night. The man who hit it was apologetic, and while it was inconvenient, we were forgiving. Accidents happen.
When the police officer showed up to file the report, though, he immediately remarked, “Again? You hit a car again? You guys are worse than the fire department!” That was maybe a little disturbing.
Months passed, and the city refused to pay our insurance company, so we couldn’t be reimbursed for the repair. At one point, someone from the city called and left a message on our answering machine, stating, “Your insurance company keeps hounding us to pay them, but we’re not going to because we at the city believe that if you want our money, you have to play by our rules.”
Maybe I don’t understand all the red tape, and maybe I’m oversimplifying this, but you hit our car. I’m pretty sure the next step is just that you, like, pay.
Fortunately, we have a killer insurance company. They saw the city was being difficult, reimbursed us, and said they would deal with collecting the money from Benicia. The insurance agent added, “Yeah, it’s not surprising. Of all the people we have to collect from, cities are the worst.”
Really. I would have thought it would be cocaine snorting, uninsured alcoholics. But, no, it’s cities like Benicia. Lovely.
End that battle. Now roll round two.
About a month ago, one of our outside pipes burst and started gushing water all over the neighborhood. We’re talking a pretty major leak. Several small children and dogs were found half a mile away, swept down the street by the current. We called the city to see if they’d fix it, and someone came out and generously said that, although the damaged pipe was our responsibility, our water box was broken, and the city was obligated to repair that. While repairing the box, they might be able to patch the leak. Awesome. We are all thankfulness. This guy is a stand up fellow.
They’re scheduled to come Monday. That’s days away, but not to worry. Since this guy is advising us to wait on the repair, he promises to call the city and explain so that we’re not charged for the excess water. There are lots more heartfelt thank yous.
Monday passes. Water still gushing.
Tuesday. Someone starts teaching impromptu surfing lessons on the endless waves coming from our house.
Wednesday. Neighbors keep coming by. They’re super polite. “Oh, did you happen to notice that, um, several species of fish now live in the flowing river you created, and raccoons and children fish in it?”
During this week, five or six people from the city come to inspect the leak. They each knock on my door, make my dog bark, wake my baby, and declare, “Yep. It’s leaking.”
After a week of waiting, our contact at the city calls back. They won’t have time to fix the leak or the box, possibly because they spend most of their time going door to door and diagnosing leaks. We can hire a plumber and someone to fix the box, and the city will reimburse us for the box. Fine. We can’t complain, since the leak was our responsibility.
But the charges for the excess water? Oh, we still won’t be responsible for any part of that, he promises.
A plumber comes the same day and fixes the leak. We don’t wait. We don’t waste excess water. That’s not how we roll.
Now the box. We get an estimate for having it installed, and I call the city to insure they’ll still reimburse us, as promised.
Wrong. They now claim that since we called a plumber, who removed the box to fix the leak, they will no longer reimburse us. Funny how none of this was mentioned before, when we were told to, um, call a plumber.
Plus, several people from the city came before the plumber and witnessed the box was already broken. They know the plumber didn’t break it. This apparently doesn’t matter. The rule stands.
So I say, eh, fine. The box has been broken since before we moved in, and we never even noticed. We won’t replace it.
No, the city now proclaims that, although the box was probably damaged when a dinosaur, roaming the earth, inadvertently stepped on it, it’s imperative that we pay to fix it. Now.
Is this not totally crazy? Is this democracy in America, I ask you? Is Michael Moore making a documentary about this?
But the bill at least. That will still be covered, obviously, since the promise that we wouldn’t have to pay it was repeated so frequently.
No! The city says they’ll pay half, and they never pay more. How could anyone have promised us otherwise? We complain, and a city worker investigates our case. He comes back and says that our contact at the city denies ever promising our water bill would be covered.
I get it that our contact at the city didn’t mean to be so misleading and deceptive. He probably honestly thought he was helping us out, promising to fix the pipes, then saying he couldn’t fix them but would reimburse us for the box, and, well, then saying he wouldn’t reimburse us for the cost and what were thinking assuming he would? When his boss questioned him about promising to comp our bill, he said what was necessary to protect his job. I get that. Even though it seems pretty manipulative, I still think he had good intentions. But that’s the thing about good intentions. They either pave the road to hell or win you a Nobel Prize. Since no one’s called me from Norway, I’m going to go with the former on this one.
I’d like to add a disclaimer. I love Benicia. I think there are lots of honest, hard working, wonderful people who work for the city. I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of interacting with any of them during these two incidents.
I don’t know what I hope to gain in writing this article. Nothing, really. I just wanted to publicly say, “That wasn’t cool.” And I want everyone out there who reads my articles—that’s right; both of you—to read this and say, “Yeah, man. That really wasn’t cool.” And, a little bit, I want the people responsible for everything to read it and say, “Whoa. That was me. I’m totally uncool.” I think that would make me feel better.
Well, that and a total reimbursement for all the money I lost. But if I could at least have the uncool part, that would be something.
