As you may know, I have recently moved. Or I guess, more correctly, I have partially moved because my stuff has not yet settled into its new home because there is not yet a new home.
The last time I moved was seven years ago and I had moved four years prior to that, which adds up to twice in just over ten years. Therefore, I considered myself reasonably familiar with the mechanics of relocation. Until I was proven wrong.
It used to be that the lawyer handling a sale would notify the utility companies to produce a final bill on a certain date. Alas, this practice is now as obsolete as teaching cursive writing. I was told very firmly by my lawyer that he would not be touching any of my household bills with a ten-foot pole and by the way, we could complete all the signing remotely (no cursive signatures required).
The first thing I tackled was electricity, via the NT Power website. I was encouraged to see there was a tab right at the top that said, “New to NT Power or Moving?” This took me to a form to supply the necessary information. It started off just fine: name, address, tenant or owner. Once they found out I was the owner of the property, things slid into a bureaucratic abyss. Right there, with a red asterisk that meant it was mandatory, was a field that wanted to know who my lawyer was.
I hesitated. Dare I incur the wrath of my lawyer, who would be holding the purse strings of the proceeds of my house? Why would the power company need to know this information? I scrolled down the website page to find a phone number. Which rang, and rang, and rang, and rang, before being answered by a robotic voice that informed me I could enter an extension to reach the person I was calling. Then hung up on me.
Then I noticed a chat function on the lower right side of the page. I bravely clicked on it, hoping it would summon an actual human who would understand the nuance of my question. After about five minutes of wavy, disappearing dots, an assistant made itself known.
“Why do I need to give you my lawyer’s name?” I asked, which produced more dots.
“We need to know your lawyer’s name,” the chatbot said.
“Yes, but why?” Many, many, more dots.
“Because we do.”
“But why? What if I don’t have a lawyer? What if I’m bartering my house for passage to Mars on SpaceX? Or maybe I’m not really moving, just going off the grid, so I need to cancel my account.”
“We need to know your lawyer’s name in case the closing date changes.”
“But if the closing date changes, how would you know unless I tell you? The lawyer isn’t going to tell you. He wants nothing to do with you. Can’t I just give you the information you need over the phone and we can skip the online form and the mandatory field for the lawyer’s name?”
“We do not take information over the phone. It’s not secure. Thank you for contacting NT Power.” And with that, I was fired from the chat.
I crossed my fingers and filled in my lawyer’s contact details. And crossed NT Power off the list.