Singapore Sling

In 1994, an American teenager living in Singapore was sentenced to six strokes with a cane for stealing road signs and vandalizing cars.

I took a Singapore-related beating recently, but I never left Brooklyn.

My relationship with this Southeast Asian city state is pretty much limited to entertainment, such as Road to Singapore with Bob Hope and Bing Crosby, Saint Jack, a 1979 movie with Ben Gazzara, and a fabulous off-Broadway show called Song of Singapore that I saw sometime in 1990s.

Now this particular fiasco begins--like most of the others in my life--with me giving into panic.

I was attempting to interview someone for a story I was working on.

I was on a tight deadline and the individual I wanted to speak with lives in Singapore, which 13 hours ahead of New York.

The person called me at the expected time, I picked up the phone and…the line went dead.

Naturally, I freaked out. I had to speak with this man right this minute, so I called him back on my I-phone and got my interview. End of story.

Well, not quite.

A short time later a message flashed on across my I-phone’s screen.

“You will be charge $62 for the most recent call.”

The message vanished instantly, and I prayed that I had been hallucinating, but I knew the ugly truth. I was getting caned right across my wallet.

How do you say “WTF” in Malay?

I tried calling my cell phone carrier, but that was a disaster unto itself as I couldn’t get speak to a live operator unless I scheduled a call on the company’s app and I couldn’t remember my password to use the damn app.

When I finally got all the grief out of the way, I was told the bill hadn’t showed up in the billing system yet and I had to call back in a week.

Ready For Fun…Fight…of a South Seas Romance…

I was sick to my stomach. How could I be so stupid? And more importantly, how exactly was I going to contest this bill?

I had made the damn call. Nobody put a gun to my head.

And saying that I wasn’t aware of these obscene long-distance charges sounded lame even to me—and I was the one getting hosed.

I didn’t want to put this call on my expense account, since I had not cleared it with my bosses before ringing up Singapore.

What really irked me was that I’m sure this man would’ve called me back if I had just waited a few moments.

The days went by, and I gradually accepted the situation. I still planned on contesting the bill, but I sincerely doubted my phone company would cut me a break.

I thought of threatening to take my business elsewhere, but this outfit is massive, and I don’t think they’d lose any sleep over my departure.

Finally, nearly a week after the call, I got through to a human being who had all the pertinent information. And so, I started my pitch.

“I’m hoping we can settle this amicably…” I began.

I acknowledged my error, I reminded the operator that I had been a loyal customer for many years and I railed against the outrageous fees they were charging.

I think I might have tossed in the word “usury” but I’m not sure now.

But I’m happy to say I didn’t scream, swear, cry or faint. I consider that progress.

After my spiel, the operator put me on a hold for a few moments.

“We can reduce your bill by $30,” she told me upon her return.

“Let’s make it $40,” I quickly responded.

She readily agreed, which suggests to me that they know these fees are exorbitant.

I’m not happy about wasting money like that, but at least I reduced the damage and put this whole sorry mess behind me.

You can’t beat that with a cane.