I really hate getting mail. Sure, when I'm expecting a new lithium-ion powered something or other it's sort of fun, but mostly the mail just brings bad news. Car decal renewal notices. Guilt-laden postcards from mom. And, most recently, collection notices.

The creditor in question is CogniDial, and they and I have been through this before. I used their cheap phone service to call Catherine when she was in Italy, way back in 2002. They had some sort of automatic billing thing, for which I used a credit card that expired without my noticing. Much later some not-so-nice folks from a collection agency in San Luis Obispo informed me that I owed $45. After some tooth-gnashing, I ponied up the dough.

It was my fault, but I still made a point of never using their service again. For one thing, I didn't have to make any international calls. For another, I'd hate to be denied a mortgage because of another misunderstanding with some fly-by-night internet telecom.

Now it's much later, and I'm told I somehow owe them $40some dollars again. I'm starting to seriously consider whether they're just shaking me down. I've left an irked message with the collection people, and an irate one with CogniDial, but what can I do? It's hard to convince nameless functionaries that you don't owe their bosses money. The computer says so, even though I asked not-so-nicely to be removed from the computer after the last fiasco. I had a similar experience in college when my phone started reliably ringing every Saturday morning, then playing a recorded message telling me that I owed money and warning me not to attempt to deny that I was [name other than my own]. Reality eventually helped me win back the right to sleep it off. But this time the only reality is that some people are getting paid to believe that I owe $40, while my own conviction is funded solely by righteous indignation — which is plentiful, but likely to produce poorer results.