TOM UTLEY: Now I'm semi-retired I've got time to fight against firms

TOM UTLEY: Now I’m semi-retired I’ve got time to fight back against faceless firms trying to rip me off… And I’m loving it!

Do you ever feel the entire corporate world is out to rip you off? If so, don’t worry. You’re probably not suffering from paranoia, because the chances are you’re absolutely right.

Such, anyway, has been my experience this past week, when I’ve been locked in a battle with two household-name businesses — one a giant of the insurance industry, the other a big player in home security.

I hope you’ll forgive me if I air my woes in this space. My excuse is that I bet countless readers have similar stories to tell about the cavalier way in which big companies treat their customers, in this age when the stock answer to any plea for fairness is: ‘Computer says No.’

So let me start with the intriguing mystery of why my buildings insurance company seems to think my house is 18.5 per cent more likely to collapse, subside or catch fire because I was born in 1953, rather than 1935.

Punishing

The question arose when I received a letter from More Th>n, the irritatingly named firm whose policies are underwritten by Royal & Sun Alliance, inviting me to renew my cover for the year from next Tuesday.

I noticed, with a gulp, that the premium for the coming 12 months was slightly more than (or should that be ‘more th>n’?) 10 per cent higher than last year.

But since I’m a reasonable fellow, I reckoned the demand was fair enough. This was because inflation is fast heading for 10 per cent, and the figure is already higher in the construction industry, whose services would be required if my house were to need rebuilding.

To give More Th>n its due, I should also point out that its policy is still a great deal cheaper than the buildings insurance I’d had from another firm throughout the previous three decades, before I switched last year.

Only now do I realise, mug that I am, that in all those years I’d been a victim of the insurance industry’s habit of punishing customers for their loyalty. The longer you stay with a particular firm, the more it’ll take advantage of you.

The lesson, of course, is to shop around — but for a lazy old codger like me, not much good with the internet, that can be a terrific bother.

Anyway, I judged that I probably wouldn’t find a better deal elsewhere, and so I set about attempting to renew my policy online.

Computer said No. Though I entered my policy number and date of birth three times, the same message kept coming up: the firm had no record of a policy of that number matching my date of birth.

‘I scoured my brain to think of any reason why my house should be considered a greater insurance risk simply because I’m 18 years younger than the computer originally thought’

Hell. The only thing for it was to ring the ‘Customer Renewal Line’ given on my bill, and I braced myself for being held in a queue until the crack of doom. (Oh, how I sympathise with Tony McBride, of Leamington Spa, who complained in a letter published in Tuesday’s Mail: ‘Why don’t businesses ever answer emails or the phone?’)

Sure enough, after what seemed like an eternity of listening to annoying music and recorded messages, I abandoned my first attempt. But after I’d walked the dog, I tried again.

This time, miraculously, my call was answered by an actual human being. And a helpful one, at that.

It turned out that somewhere along the line, someone had transposed the last two digits of my date of birth in More Th>n’s computer system, rendering it as 1935 instead of 1953.

‘I’ve put that right for you,’ said the helpful lady, and I thanked her. But then she added: ‘Just a minute, I’ll have to see if that does anything to your premium.’

The long and the short of it was that since I am 68, and not 86, her computer said I’d have to pay an extra 18.5 per cent to insure my house.

I was baffled. I scoured my brain to think of any reason why my house should be considered a greater insurance risk simply because I’m 18 years younger than the computer originally thought.

Sting

Are people in their late 60s, like me, really more likely than octogenarians to burn down our houses or watch them subside into the London clay? Or is it simply that 86-year-olds are less likely to file insurance claims? I ask in a spirit of innocent inquiry.

The helpful lady who answered the phone couldn’t enlighten me. Nor could More Th>n’s Consumer Public Relations Manager when I rang him yesterday, though he kindly said he’d get back to me after asking around. At the time of writing, seven hours on, I’m still waiting. Clearly, it’s not an easy question.

Call me an old cynic, but I reckon the insurance industry will seize on any excuse to sting its customers for extra cash, and so add to the misery of inflation. And don’t get me started on the energy companies, with their massive profits, because my expert colleague Alex Brummer is dealing with them elsewhere in the paper today.

My annoyance with More Th>n, however, is as nothing beside my anger at the way I’ve been treated over the years by the multinational burglar alarm company ADT — another outfit that apparently believes in punishing customers’ loyalty.

Rewind to last autumn, when an ADT engineer came round to fix our ancient system (a builder had accidentally severed a cable). He told me it was not worth repairing, and advised me to upgrade to the company’s newest wireless equipment, which would not only be better but probably cheaper, too.

On October 14, a very nice salesman came round, promising he would save me money, and I signed up to have the old system removed and the new one installed.

OK, this wireless system would cost me £419.88 a year for rental and maintenance, as opposed to the £391.99 I paid last year for the old one. But it did seem to be more reliable, and what’s the odd £27.89 these days? No more than a couple of packets of cigarettes.

What’s more, he assured me I could keep the system after 18 months, with no further annual charge.

I thought this sounded like an excellent deal. That was until my bill to renew the contract arrived earlier this month: annual rental and maintenance of the new system, a blistering £923.66! What kind of idiot did they take me for?

Outrageous

It didn’t help that I’ve since looked up alarm systems on the internet, and I see I could have bought one outright, apparently identical to ADT’s, for a one-off payment of some £320, with no further charge. Ever.

With smoke coming out of my ears, I fired off a furious email to ADT’s accounts department, saying a mistake must have been made with that outrageous bill. It was answered from an address in Bratislava, Slovakia (which didn’t inspire confidence), saying the department couldn’t amend my bill. Computer said No.

So next I rang the number I was given for invoice inquiries. I was told no, there had been no mistake with my bill. The new system counted as an upgrade, and the charge for it was therefore in addition to that for the system ADT removed.

‘With smoke coming out of my ears, I fired off a furious email to ADT’s accounts department, saying a mistake must have been made with that outrageous bill’

‘That’s the way it works,’ said my new tormentor. But he did put me back in touch with that silver-tongued salesman — and he, at least, agreed that the bill was all wrong.

‘Give me a couple of days and I’ll get it sorted,’ he said. That was two weeks and two days ago. Not a word from Bratislava since.

The awful thing is that in years gone by, when I was busy with full-time work, I might just have paid that bill with a resigned scowl. Indeed, I bet many other victims of rip-offs, accidental or otherwise, meekly cough up, because they can’t face the hassle of a legal showdown.

But I’m a changed man now, with time on my hands. Mrs U is always telling me I must find a hobby in my semi-retirement. Chasing corporate chancers through the small-claims court could be just the thing.

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