For months, a large retailer emailed me twice a day, begging me to switch from paper billing to online billing. If only I would go paperless, my hair would grow back rich and thick, my sciatica would go away, my plantar fasciitis would heal itself, my cats would stop shedding, and my chance of heavenly reward would rise. OK, fine. I’ll sign up, just please stop sending me your stupid emails.

So the emails ended; contentment reigned. The paper bill stopped coming. I was saving trees and saving a giant corporation postage each month, plus the cost of paper and envelopes. My hair started to grow a little. It was a win/win situation. Life was good.

About a month later, while paying some bills, it occurred to me that I hadn’t gotten one from the giant retailer, a store whose name is a household word. I’d totally forgotten I had signed up for paperless billing. But how do I get a bill? Where do I send the money? I went online to find out why the company hadn’t sent me a bill by email. My payment was due.

“When were they going to send me a bill?” I asked the woman on the phone.

“You told us to stop the emails, sir.”

“Yes, but I meant the annoying emails you kept sending me to tell me that you wanted me to sign up for the ease and convenience of paperless billing. If you don’t send me a bill in the mail and you don’t send me one by email, how am I supposed to pay the bill?”

“Give me your bank account number and we’ll take it directly out of your checking account.”

Yes, that would be convenient – for them. For me, not so much. Do they not read the papers? Every day some giant conglomerate gets hacked and millions of customers are told, “Customer information has been compromised. Check your bill to be sure no unauthorized charges have been made to your account.”