The $1,919.61 Email That Almost Made Me Amish

Got the electric bill the other day and almost THREW UP BLOOD.

• $1,227.23 for the farmhouse 🤢
• $692.38 for the guest cottage 🤮

What?????????????

As soon as I saw those numbers, I was convinced, this was it:

I WAS GOING FULL-ON AMISH.

I mean, I already have the outhouse. 🚽

(I do! There's an old wooden 1800s outhouse behind the farmhouse, complete with old-fashioned toilet paper holders. Two-stalls, baby. Gonna have to send a photo, lolllll.)

And, I already live in Pennsylvania, soooooooooooooo........

(When I used to do advertising sales for a Philly magazine, Lancaster—home of the Pennsylvania Amish—was part of my territory. I am horse-and-buggy friendly!)

SO, LIKE, I HAVE THE MEANS.

(Side note: have you seen that show yet, Suddenly Amish? I haven't seen it, but based on the trailer, please picture me making period pads while crying into a pot of porridge.)

Because, seriously, who is paying $1,919.61 in electricity bills every month??? I mean, does Times Square even pay that much? It's double what it usually is.

So here I am going, "Is it that damn dehumidifier in the basement??? Is it because I plugged in the new fridge in the cottage?! Is it because I am clearly, demonstrably incapable of being a normal person with normal person electricity needs?! Surely I can't be THAT bad at being a homeowner."

*Stares at suitcase. Laughs at how many people used to ask "how can you afford to travel all the time???*

(Answer: Because full-time travel is WAY LESS EXPENSIVE than owning things, she discovers, fantasizing about French wine being poured into her mouth.)

I stare at the email from the electric company. Hate how sterile they are. How indifferent they are. How corporate they are. How "we don't give a flying kilowatt hour about you, here's your big, stupid BILL. Oh, you wanted to play house??? Buck up, sweetpea—heeeeeere ya go!"

They feel like the enemy, with their sterile, indifferent emails.

And, despite the fact that this is a very large, sticky, spoiled-milk-covered bill to get on a Friday morning (yum!), so many companies make the same mistake:

Being cold and stiff and sterile, when they could have been human, and real, and remarkable . . . even when the 💩 hits the fan. (Can we at least use battery-powered fans in outhouses?!)

Imagine if their email had said:

If ANY electric company wrote copy like that, they'd instantly have 7 bazillion customers. 🌈

It's instantly refreshing because every other company like it is distant, cold, generic, stodgy, stiff, corporate, clunky, and the equivalent of dried-up oatmeal on the rim of your bowl. Whose only worthy equal is egg yolk on the rim of your bowl. Both my mortal enemies.

Just changing the copy alone can make it feel like you are disrupting an entire industry. 🤺 You look like the cool kid. The unicorn company. The one everyone's talking about.

And, all you had to do was change the words.

Every single sentence you write—on your website, in an email, in a text message exchange with customers—is an opportunity to make them obsessed with your brand, or unimpressed with your brand. Even when you're delivering a $1,919.61 invoice and saying, "F**** Y***, Pay Me."

The good news?

After grunting and pissing about and moaning and being mad at the world, I finally logged into the electric company website.

Bracing my little knuckles.

Preparing for a fight.

Jab, jab, right hook!

Ready to demand someone come out and check the meters (and by "demand," of course I mean "say in my most polite, weirdly high-pitched voice: 'hello, good sir, can you please help me solve this most puzzling conundrum on this fine, fine day?'")

That's when I get EXTRA confused.

Because there, on the screen?

After I log in?

Are two very different amounts than I'd seen in the email. Lower amounts. Sane amounts. (Or, at least for what I've been used to.)

• $519.29 - farmhouse
• $297.62 - cottage

And, that's when I realized:

The email they sent on Friday contained a (serious) time lag: it showed a total for two month's worth of bills, together. Combined. Into one jaw-breaking total.

But online?

The amounts reflected my most recent payment.

AND THUS, WERE NORMAL.

PHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW.

Crisis averted. Amish era postponed! I shall live to ride another day!

Which may or may not be on horse and buggy. We'll see how the sewer bill looks next week. 🤣 I'll keep you posted on whether I make it out of this as a modern woman, or whether the next newsletter comes to you handwritten on parchment, sealed with beeswax, and delivered by a very reliable horse named Gerald.

Either way — write better copy than your electric company. The bar, as it turns out, is on the ground.