Widowhood 201: The Catch-22

When my husband died, within two weeks I got a little money from a life insurance policy. (How did they find out so fast?) To collect it, they sent me a set of checks that I could use just like checks from any bank. In those early months I used some of the money until other things got straighten out like my husband’s pension and Social Security benefits coming in my name and getting my health insurance under my own name so they'd cover medications again, etc. Even credit cards got frozen right after Don died and that alone took several MONTHS before I could use those cards again. It’s a little known fact that catches a lot of widows by surprise: a joint credit card account where you both have a card in your own name is not truly a joint account unless you are both listed as a legal payee on the account. Many wives aren't and I was one of them, even though I'd used that card for decades. Who knew? It takes time to get your widow's work like this straighten out. 

Fast forward to now. That insurance money that I didn’t use up was just sitting there because it pays better interest than any of the investments I have going, not forgotten but I thought the account was nicely tucked away for future use when I needed. This week I got a letter from the insurance company giving me thirty days to let them know if I still want them to manage the money and if I don’t contact them in that time frame they are going to send it to the state of Michigan’s treasury as per the laws in my state! They listed a web address where I was to go to email them. Great. To get on the website I had to set up an account. Fifteen minutes later I had that accomplished and I could see my money sitting there but nowhere in God’s green acres was there a tab for contacting them by email. The ‘Contact Us’ tab led to links to Twitter, Facebook and something equally as lame but no ‘send an email’ tab! After a half hour of frustration looking at every link on the entire site and then some I was nowhere closer to finding a way of contacting them by email than I was before I opened the damn letter. I had also tried their automated phone system to notify them and it listed a zillion choices but not one for: “Don’t send my money to the state!” But if I wanted to buy more insurance, no problem. There were lines for life, health, cars, houses and hangnails just waiting to hear my sweet, little voice. 

Just when you think there couldn’t possibility be any residual widow’s work left---it’s been three and a half years---something like this pops up. I’m too frustrated, now, to do it but the first thing Monday I’m going to call back and when the automatic phone system wants me to say or punch in the department of my choice I’m going start chanting, “Live Agent” and “Live Representative.” That often works with companies and hopefully, it will work with the insurance company. If not, does anyone want to go on a road trip to Pennsylvania with me? I’ve got 25 days left to get this issue resolved. 

Back when Joseph Heller’s popular book, Catch-22, first came out in the 1960s I read and loved the book. It was funny and obviously a memorable read for me. Over the years I have run into my own versions of catch-22 situations like the one described above but the book’s catch-22 was a little more complicated, though no less circular. Here’s how Wikipedia describes the absurd military bureaucratic for soldiers during WWII: “The term is introduced by the character Doc Daneeka, an army psychiatrist who invokes "Catch 22" to explain why any pilot requesting mental evaluation for insanity—hoping to be found not sane enough to fly and thereby escape dangerous missions—demonstrates his own sanity in making the request and thus cannot be declared insane.”

Since the book was written, the term "catch-22" has found its way into common usage and I’ll bet a lot of younger people don’t even know where it came from. None the less we can all identify with the frustration of dealing with bureaucratic logic. Or should I say bureaucratic illogical behavior? ©