I never intended this to be a gripe column. But one incident has forced my hand, so to speak. We all know that ZESA, the power utility, has had its fair share of bashing in this and other media, but I feel that they sometimes bring it on themselves the state of their bill payment halls being a case in point. More specifically at Hylett House. What I will detail below is a true story. Names have been excluded to protect the innocent (and inconvenienced.)
Day One: Yours truly, being a conscientious citizen, decides to pay his electricity bill, even though I last received a bill in ninenteen-gocha nhembe.I calmly queue in front of the Enquiries Desk with a 200-page novel, well prepared for the long haul. Thirty minutes later (this queue was short) the kind gentleman behind the desk tells me that I have not been billed. So could I be a nice consumer and pay a million dollars (old currency) which he tells me is a guesstimate.
Looking at the long and winding payments queue, I decide to write a cheque as I normally do under such circumstances. Lo and behold I find the cheque box sealed. The security guard standing nearby politely advises that I join the queue and pay cash. Cheques are not being accepted because they might ‘bounce’ because of the currency revaluation. Seeing the prospect of spending the rest of my short life in the payments queue, I give up and head for work.
Day Two: I am pleasantly surprised by the short queue at the enquiries desk. There are just two of us there. This is going to be nice and quick, I sing to myself. The chap at the counter informs me that there is a ‘problem’ with my electricity account.
“Go round and join the Credit Control queue labelled BYO East,” he advises. I then discover why the enquiries queue is so short. It has reformed at Credit Control. For those of you who did not know, the Credit Control queue is composed mainly of sheepish looking people whose supplies have been disconnected for non-payment. The difference is that I am yet to be disconnected, which is why I want to find out how much I owe.
Remember, I have not received a bill since dinosaurs roamed the earth. The queue is visibly longer than the one at the ‘BYO’ West counter and is not moving an inch. The lady there is busy cleaning her keyboard. I assume she is the cleaner by the way she meticulously scrubs the computer. We later discover otherwise and that there is a ‘problem’ with her terminal. We are then shunted to another one and she promptly starts work.
Meanwhile, the BYO West queue has disappeared and the lady there is dutifully telling anyone who strays there that she deals only with the WEST. Our queue has grown much longer and soon I regret the folly of having moved from Gwabalanda to Parklands. After going through two customers, the ‘cleaning’ lady abruptly moves back to the first terminal which is now working after some tinkering by a very smart looking young man in glasses.
By then the bearded white fellow behind me has blown a couple of fuses. In fact, he is on the verge of inciting a riot. It also doe not help matters that an old white lady has cut the queue in the process. Apparently, he has been queuing since the day before and wonders aloud why there are no bills being sent out and why the computers don’t seem to work. Good questions those, but the rest of us are like new-born kittens.
It’s now my turn and the ‘cleaning lady’ informs me that I have a credit, meaning that ZESA owe me money instead! However, since bills are sure to materialise this century, I’m advised to pay an estimated amount. This, I am kindly warned, is the prudent thing to do because when the bills do eventually arrive and I am found wanting, I will surely be cut off. It’s a small victory for a small man like me to be owed money by a utility. I take a glance at the payments queue and I decide that I do not want to miss seeing my children grow into adulthood standing there.
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