Hidalgo licked the envelope lid, sealing it shut. He liked using envelopes; he still liked sending and receiving paper mail. He imagined the letter being picked up by a post carrier first thing in the morning as he strolled down the street to the post office.
“This happens more and more,” Ronald said. “The last few years, the federal government has been attempting to cut down on insurance-related crimes, including, and limited to, those by individuals against individuals.”
Ronald paused, his first syntactical show of courtesy since the start of the call. Perhaps, at this point in the call, Ronald straightened up and realized that this call with Theresa would require more than his typically-low output of attention, and that he’d actually benefit time-wise from taking the necessary moments to insert ample pauses into his sentences. Then, motivated by silence on Theresa’s end of the line, he continued.
“Wives taking out policies on rich asshole husbands, rich asshole husbands taking out policies on their uncles’ cousin’s friend’s asshole neighbor for a few extra bucks. Doing what we do now cuts down on all of that, ma’am. Now, we check with the person whose life is being insured before we put a new policy into effect. Funny thing about the policy language is, it also goes the other way. So, we have to call people like you, too -- beneficiaries, I mean -- to satisfy the legal mumbo-jumbo, ma’am.” Ronald took a breath. “But here’s the thing. You’re not paying a cent. You stand only to benefit.”
Theresa was shaking her head now, incredulous. “But, I don’t know who--”
“I know you do not know the insured individual by name. I understand that you were alarmed when I notified you about their possession of certain information vital and personal to your person, ma’am. I am speaking, as I think you know, of your social security number.”
Ronald paused then, and Theresa waited for him to resume. When he did not, Theresa realized he was waiting for her to respond. “Yes, yes, I understand,” she said, exacerbated. “Why should I not be concerned? Now, if you’d excuse me, I’d like to call the poli--”
“Ma’am, I’ve a perfectly reasonable explanation for why this has happened, and if you’d just let me finish explaining it, you’d likely realize there’s no cause for alarm, ma’am.”
Theresa now felt positively enraged by Ronald’s dismissive tone, and by his extreme insistence on calling her a “ma’am,” but she was so hung up on the unpleasantness of the situation that she allowed him to continue without first putting him in his place.
“Typically, cases like this crop up thanks to one of two things. First, you’ve got a distant relative, happened to be linked to your family in the official records, thus giving them the ability to send your social security number through encrypted communications channels for the sole purpose of matters which result in financial gain for you and/or the perpetuation of your family’s wealth.” Ronald took another breath. “Or, it’s a fan”
Flabbergasted, and totally lost, Theresa lost the will to be angry and asked with a tone of complete confusion, “A fan?”
“Yes, a fan.” Ronald responded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Of your books. You’re an author, yes, Ms. Hawkins?”
“Yes, I’ve written a few books.”
“He’s probably a fan of one of those.”
Ronald let there be silence again on the line between them. Again, Theresa assumed he would resume talking on his own, and again he did not.
“A fan of one of my books? Took out a life insurance policy on himself… and named me as a beneficiary?”
“Yes, Ms. Hawkins, that’s what this whole situation might insinuate.” Ronald said it like it was the plainest thing in the world. “It’s been happening a lot lately, ever since all that new mumbo-jumbo went into effect. Easy way to get in touch with a celebrity, I suppose.”
Theresa shook her head in mild disbelief. “Get in touch with me? How did he get my social security number?”
“He didn’t Ms. Hawkins, ma’am.” Ronald said. “He didn’t have to. The system fills it in automatically. You are simply a beneficiary, after all. You stand only to benefit from this. No need ever to prevent anyone from getting a gift. As I said, it’s a side effect of the new system that I’m even on the phone with you right now. It’s really only meant to function the other way. But, oh, you know how it works. The bureaucracy. When we put the words into effect one way, and it turns out that there’s an accidental biconditional somewhere in the language, what can we do but abide by those words? How else would we determine the legality of anything, ma’am?”
Ronald took a breath. Theresa shook her head in mild disbelief that, as it turned out, she knew so little about the legal system.
“It’s as I said. You’re a beneficiary. In the amount of $5000. It might be that Hidalgo C. Morris is attempting to get in touch with you, attempting to contact you in some way, but it’s for you to decide whether or not you’ll respond. None of your personal data has been provided to him. He might just want to say hello, or he might have some favor to ask you, or he really might be some creep after all. It’s like I said: it’s been happening more and more recently. People have all different reasons for taking out policies like this, it seems. There’s really no telling.”
Ronald took another breath.
“If you’d like to know for sure, you’ll have to ask Hidalgo C. Morris.”
Hidalgo wondered how long it would be before he heard anything back. He wondered if he’d hear anything back at all. He betted, though, that he would.
***
On Saturday, Theresa Hawkins decided to open the preceding week’s mail, which had been piling up on the countertop next to her bowl of pens. A few items in, she found herself grasping a manila business envelope from a company called Lipno Insurance. She had no dealings with this Lipno Insurance, so she threw the letter aside into her recycling bin, thinking it to be an advertisement or some such nonsense.
***
On Saturday, Theresa Hawkins decided to open the preceding week’s mail, which had been piling up on the countertop next to her bowl of pens. A few items in, she found herself grasping a manila business envelope from a company called Lipno Insurance. She had no dealings with this Lipno Insurance, so she threw the letter aside into her recycling bin, thinking it to be an advertisement or some such nonsense.
Several weeks later, Theresa received a telephone call on her private cell.
“Hello, is this Ms. Hawkins?” said a vaguely bored voice on the other end of the line.
Theresa hung up the phone, reminding herself to remind Ichabod to see to it that spam calls from salespeople were routed away from her private line.
Later that day, as Theresa sat, legs crossed atop a tall counter stool, watching a new original streaming show, Ichabod rang her private line.
“Yes?” Theresa answered curtly, mildly annoyed to have her Sunday punctuated (the weekdays took a lot out of her when she was on tour). Heavens, she thought, Ichabod really should know that.
“Ms. Hawkins, I am sorry to bother you. It’s about an email you sent me earlier this afternoon. I can assure you, I did not route any sales calls through to your private line. Strictly calls of high personal, medical, or financial importance. May I ask: to which call were you referring?”
“I’m not sure,” Theresa answered. “The man on the other end sounded incredibly plain. Just bored. It doesn’t matter. Must have been a mistake. I’m sure they’ll call back if it’s important.”
“Yes?” Theresa answered curtly, mildly annoyed to have her Sunday punctuated (the weekdays took a lot out of her when she was on tour). Heavens, she thought, Ichabod really should know that.
“Ms. Hawkins, I am sorry to bother you. It’s about an email you sent me earlier this afternoon. I can assure you, I did not route any sales calls through to your private line. Strictly calls of high personal, medical, or financial importance. May I ask: to which call were you referring?”
“I’m not sure,” Theresa answered. “The man on the other end sounded incredibly plain. Just bored. It doesn’t matter. Must have been a mistake. I’m sure they’ll call back if it’s important.”
They did call back, in fact. They did so just the next morning at 11:00 am Thersa’s time, just as she was stepping out of the shower and into her new robe (a soft, luxurious thing). The telephone rang on her bedside table. Theresa picked it up on the third tone.
“Hello?”
“Hello, is this Ms. Hawkins?”
Remembering the bored droll of the voice from the day before, Theresa this time restrained her urge to hang up the phone. “Yes, I do. I’m sorry, I think I accidentally hung up on you yesterday. That was a mistake, I just didn’t recognize your voice. Is this about an appointment I’ve forgotten about?”
The voice on the other end of the line cleared itself and then responded, “No, Ms. Hawkins, Actually, my name is Ronald, I’m with Lipno Insurance, we specialize in home, car, and life insurance policies for individuals and families in working class households, there was a policy taken out last week that listed you as the beneficiary, we’re just calling to confirm that with you.”
Ronald spoke in run-on sentences, giving barely a comma’s breath to each of his dots, which annoyed Theresa, but she was confused enough not to hang up on the man despite this misgiving.
“I didn’t take out any policies, this must be a mistake--”
“No, ma’am,” Ronald denied flatly, barely letting Theresa finish her sentence. Now, she did not like the man and resolved to tell him off, but before she could muster the right words, speedy Ronald was mid-sentence.
“You didn’t take out any policies, ma’am. You were listed as a beneficiary on one that somebody else took out. A life insurance policy.”
Now Theresa stopped what she was doing (she’d been examining pictures of the small, back-of-a-bookshop venue where she’d be speaking later that night) and straightened her back. “A life insurance policy? I don’t know who would--”
“A Mr. Hidalgo C. Morris, ma’am.”
Taken aback, Theresa lost her breath for a moment, entirely unsure of what to say. Ronald had rudely and blatantly cut her off for the first-and-a-half time. After a moment, she collected herself and responded, stifling a chuckle, “I don’t know any Hidalgos at all, actually. No Morris, specifically. It must be a mistake.”
“No, ma’am, I can assure you it is not a mistake.”
“How's that?” Theresa asked, still annoyed at Ronald but baffled enough to inquire further.
“The system lists your social security number on the record.”
Theresa froze, eyes wide. “What did you say his name was? Hidalgo?”
“That’s right, ma’am.”
“I don’t know any Hidalgo,” Theresa said, now alarmed. “If they have my personal information, my social security number, this must be a case of identity theft or something. Please, flag this, or whatever you do. Jesus, I don’t even know who to call about this.”
“You can call your local police department, ma’am, but before you do, it’d do you good to hear me out.”
Theresa found herself growing more confused with each word Ronald spoke. “Hear you out about what?”
“Hello, is this Ms. Hawkins?”
Remembering the bored droll of the voice from the day before, Theresa this time restrained her urge to hang up the phone. “Yes, I do. I’m sorry, I think I accidentally hung up on you yesterday. That was a mistake, I just didn’t recognize your voice. Is this about an appointment I’ve forgotten about?”
The voice on the other end of the line cleared itself and then responded, “No, Ms. Hawkins, Actually, my name is Ronald, I’m with Lipno Insurance, we specialize in home, car, and life insurance policies for individuals and families in working class households, there was a policy taken out last week that listed you as the beneficiary, we’re just calling to confirm that with you.”
Ronald spoke in run-on sentences, giving barely a comma’s breath to each of his dots, which annoyed Theresa, but she was confused enough not to hang up on the man despite this misgiving.
“I didn’t take out any policies, this must be a mistake--”
“No, ma’am,” Ronald denied flatly, barely letting Theresa finish her sentence. Now, she did not like the man and resolved to tell him off, but before she could muster the right words, speedy Ronald was mid-sentence.
“You didn’t take out any policies, ma’am. You were listed as a beneficiary on one that somebody else took out. A life insurance policy.”
Now Theresa stopped what she was doing (she’d been examining pictures of the small, back-of-a-bookshop venue where she’d be speaking later that night) and straightened her back. “A life insurance policy? I don’t know who would--”
“A Mr. Hidalgo C. Morris, ma’am.”
Taken aback, Theresa lost her breath for a moment, entirely unsure of what to say. Ronald had rudely and blatantly cut her off for the first-and-a-half time. After a moment, she collected herself and responded, stifling a chuckle, “I don’t know any Hidalgos at all, actually. No Morris, specifically. It must be a mistake.”
“No, ma’am, I can assure you it is not a mistake.”
“How's that?” Theresa asked, still annoyed at Ronald but baffled enough to inquire further.
“The system lists your social security number on the record.”
Theresa froze, eyes wide. “What did you say his name was? Hidalgo?”
“That’s right, ma’am.”
“I don’t know any Hidalgo,” Theresa said, now alarmed. “If they have my personal information, my social security number, this must be a case of identity theft or something. Please, flag this, or whatever you do. Jesus, I don’t even know who to call about this.”
“You can call your local police department, ma’am, but before you do, it’d do you good to hear me out.”
Theresa found herself growing more confused with each word Ronald spoke. “Hear you out about what?”
“This happens more and more,” Ronald said. “The last few years, the federal government has been attempting to cut down on insurance-related crimes, including, and limited to, those by individuals against individuals.”
Ronald paused, his first syntactical show of courtesy since the start of the call. Perhaps, at this point in the call, Ronald straightened up and realized that this call with Theresa would require more than his typically-low output of attention, and that he’d actually benefit time-wise from taking the necessary moments to insert ample pauses into his sentences. Then, motivated by silence on Theresa’s end of the line, he continued.
“Wives taking out policies on rich asshole husbands, rich asshole husbands taking out policies on their uncles’ cousin’s friend’s asshole neighbor for a few extra bucks. Doing what we do now cuts down on all of that, ma’am. Now, we check with the person whose life is being insured before we put a new policy into effect. Funny thing about the policy language is, it also goes the other way. So, we have to call people like you, too -- beneficiaries, I mean -- to satisfy the legal mumbo-jumbo, ma’am.” Ronald took a breath. “But here’s the thing. You’re not paying a cent. You stand only to benefit.”
Theresa was shaking her head now, incredulous. “But, I don’t know who--”
“I know you do not know the insured individual by name. I understand that you were alarmed when I notified you about their possession of certain information vital and personal to your person, ma’am. I am speaking, as I think you know, of your social security number.”
Ronald paused then, and Theresa waited for him to resume. When he did not, Theresa realized he was waiting for her to respond. “Yes, yes, I understand,” she said, exacerbated. “Why should I not be concerned? Now, if you’d excuse me, I’d like to call the poli--”
“Ma’am, I’ve a perfectly reasonable explanation for why this has happened, and if you’d just let me finish explaining it, you’d likely realize there’s no cause for alarm, ma’am.”
Theresa now felt positively enraged by Ronald’s dismissive tone, and by his extreme insistence on calling her a “ma’am,” but she was so hung up on the unpleasantness of the situation that she allowed him to continue without first putting him in his place.
“Typically, cases like this crop up thanks to one of two things. First, you’ve got a distant relative, happened to be linked to your family in the official records, thus giving them the ability to send your social security number through encrypted communications channels for the sole purpose of matters which result in financial gain for you and/or the perpetuation of your family’s wealth.” Ronald took another breath. “Or, it’s a fan”
Flabbergasted, and totally lost, Theresa lost the will to be angry and asked with a tone of complete confusion, “A fan?”
“Yes, a fan.” Ronald responded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Of your books. You’re an author, yes, Ms. Hawkins?”
“Yes, I’ve written a few books.”
“He’s probably a fan of one of those.”
Ronald let there be silence again on the line between them. Again, Theresa assumed he would resume talking on his own, and again he did not.
“A fan of one of my books? Took out a life insurance policy on himself… and named me as a beneficiary?”
“Yes, Ms. Hawkins, that’s what this whole situation might insinuate.” Ronald said it like it was the plainest thing in the world. “It’s been happening a lot lately, ever since all that new mumbo-jumbo went into effect. Easy way to get in touch with a celebrity, I suppose.”
Theresa shook her head in mild disbelief. “Get in touch with me? How did he get my social security number?”
“He didn’t Ms. Hawkins, ma’am.” Ronald said. “He didn’t have to. The system fills it in automatically. You are simply a beneficiary, after all. You stand only to benefit from this. No need ever to prevent anyone from getting a gift. As I said, it’s a side effect of the new system that I’m even on the phone with you right now. It’s really only meant to function the other way. But, oh, you know how it works. The bureaucracy. When we put the words into effect one way, and it turns out that there’s an accidental biconditional somewhere in the language, what can we do but abide by those words? How else would we determine the legality of anything, ma’am?”
Ronald took a breath. Theresa shook her head in mild disbelief that, as it turned out, she knew so little about the legal system.
“It’s as I said. You’re a beneficiary. In the amount of $5000. It might be that Hidalgo C. Morris is attempting to get in touch with you, attempting to contact you in some way, but it’s for you to decide whether or not you’ll respond. None of your personal data has been provided to him. He might just want to say hello, or he might have some favor to ask you, or he really might be some creep after all. It’s like I said: it’s been happening more and more recently. People have all different reasons for taking out policies like this, it seems. There’s really no telling.”
Ronald took another breath.
“If you’d like to know for sure, you’ll have to ask Hidalgo C. Morris.”
After she hung up the line, Theresa crawled into bed. She liked taking showers before bed. She liked feeling clean in her sheets, and she didn’t mind it when her pillow was a little damp in the morning. As long as she brushed her hair back against the pillow, she couldn’t feel its coolness against her skin. And so, even though she’d forgotten to bring a hair dryer on this leg of the tour, she’d opted to shower before bed, which would allow her to get a quicker start the next morning.
And after tonight, her pillow wouldn’t be damp at all, nor would a hair dryer be needed even if she had one, because by the end of her conversation with Ronald, Thersa’s hair was mostly dry. She thought about how she really didn’t mind not having a hair dryer, and how she really never found herself longing for one, and she resolved to think about ceasing use of hair dryers altogether, to save a little energy and forego a single excess.
Then, her thoughts drifted to what the next day held for her. Only one thing rested firmly on her mental calender: she wanted to have a conversation with Hidalgo C. Morris. $5,000 was not a life-changing sum of money, but it was an intriguing sum. It begged for a story to be told. It grabbed Theresa’s attention, and her schedule was open enough to explore her curiosities.
***
Out of the whole thing, Hidalgo got to meet his favorite author. And when they parted ways, Hidalgo knew it was not forever. By forgoing lunches and vacations, he’d be able to save enough to discuss Theresa Hawkins’ next book with her soon after its release. A few years down the line.
And after tonight, her pillow wouldn’t be damp at all, nor would a hair dryer be needed even if she had one, because by the end of her conversation with Ronald, Thersa’s hair was mostly dry. She thought about how she really didn’t mind not having a hair dryer, and how she really never found herself longing for one, and she resolved to think about ceasing use of hair dryers altogether, to save a little energy and forego a single excess.
Then, her thoughts drifted to what the next day held for her. Only one thing rested firmly on her mental calender: she wanted to have a conversation with Hidalgo C. Morris. $5,000 was not a life-changing sum of money, but it was an intriguing sum. It begged for a story to be told. It grabbed Theresa’s attention, and her schedule was open enough to explore her curiosities.
***
Out of the whole thing, Hidalgo got to meet his favorite author. And when they parted ways, Hidalgo knew it was not forever. By forgoing lunches and vacations, he’d be able to save enough to discuss Theresa Hawkins’ next book with her soon after its release. A few years down the line.
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