Ultimatums Are Risky

 Could I see a gentleman at the Omni with an upset stomach?

The dispatcher for International Assistance was delighted to learn that I could. In most cities, dispatchers work hard to find a doctor willing to make a housecall but not in Los Angeles.

I copied the guest’s name, age, room, and insurance I.D. I quoted a fee. That was acceptable. I said I would arrive within an hour. He was pleased to hear that. Then I dropped the bomb. I would need a credit card number.

I could hear the air go out of his balloon.

“We always send a guarantee of payment.”

“You do. But then you don’t pay.”

Many travel insurers pay promptly. Others require repeated phone calls. Pestering a billing department relentlessly usually works, but sometimes I run out of patience, and many visits for International Assistance remained unpaid after six months.

“I’m not sure we have a credit card.”

“Yes, you do. Ask your supervisor.”

All travel insurers have company credit cards but they vary greatly in their willingness to give them out. Some do it routinely. Others require an ultimatum. I hated hearing from Universal Assistance until they coughed up a credit card number. Now I love it when they phone.

But ultimatums are risky. The dispatcher agreed to consult his supervisor and call me back, but I never heard from him.

 

 

 

 

My Last Bad Check

A guest at the Hyatt had fallen ill and cancelled a flight. He had recovered, but the airline insisted on a doctor’s note before allowing him on board.

Determining if someone is healthy enough to fly usually requires only a few questions, but I do an exam. He delivered a steady patter as I worked, describing himself as a venture capitalist with an exciting but stressful life as he prepared for an important meeting in Japan.

As I composed the note, I saw him writing a check and immediately announced that I accept credit cards.

Apologizing, he told me that it would be a hassle unless payment came out of the company account. Seeing my hesitation, he added that he had credit cards and would give me a number in case there were a problem. He pulled one out and scribbled on my invoice, getting one number wrong. I noticed and made the correction. 

I’ve received a few dozen bad checks but only rarely after 2000 when I began accepting credit cards.

You can imagine my feeling later as I stood watching a teller fiddle at his computer…. and fiddle…. and fiddle… and finally explain that it wasn’t accepting the check.

Naturally, I felt stupid. Single males write almost all bad checks, and this guest fit the pattern.

Now came the tedious process of trying to recover the money which occasionally happens. As I expected, the address and phone number on the check were wrong. Asking the hotel for contact information sometimes helps, but in this case I learned that it must respect the guest’s privacy. The credit card was certainly worthless.

But it wasn’t! When I phoned the computer and entered the numbers, it approved. Some things are hard to explain.

Rashes are Easy, Part 1

A woman at a Sunset Strip hotel had seen a doctor for an allergic rash, and now she wasn’t feeling right. Rashes are easy, and her symptoms were probably medication side-effects, so I expected no problem. That seemed to be the case,, and she agreed to stop the medicine.

She handed me her credit card. I took out my cell phone, dialed the credit card company’s computer, and entered a series of numbers at its request. It denied approval. This is often the result of a typing error, so I entered the numbers again. Another denial.

In the distant past, guests would apologize and promise to send a check once they returned home. Some kept the promise, but I soon decided it was better to collect on the spot.

The guest seemed genuinely puzzled. She wondered if the hotel was responsible. At check-in, a hotel often places a hold on a large sum from the guest’s credit card to ensure that it gets paid. She wondered if this exceeded her limit. She phoned the front desk, and this proved true. There followed a long series of calls, referrals, consultations, and arguments before hotel management agreed to remove the hold. It worked. The computer reversed itself and approved.

More Worry

At the end of a hotel visit, a guest handed over her credit card. I wrote its number at the bottom of my medical record form. Seeing this, the guest frowned.

“Do you shred that after you use it?” she asked.

I shook my head no. “It goes into my files.”  I keep it in case of a problem with payment, although so far that’s not happened.

She scowled at this answer. I phoned the credit card company and began entering my answers to its computer’s questions. She hovered, staring anxiously at my form.

“So you don’t shred my number... I thought everyone shredded credit card numbers…”

The computer announced its approval. After hanging up, I tore off the bottom of my form and handed it back. She seemed vastly relieved.

Cash Flow Problems

“Pick up card! Pick up card!” intoned the computer. Unlike other messages, this never means a typing mistake, but I re-entered the numbers and heard the same announcement.

Wearily, I phoned International Assistance to explain that their credit card had been rejected. The dispatcher put me on hold for several minutes before returning with another card number. In the past, I’ve gone through several before hearing the computer’s approval, but this one worked, and I left for the hotel.

International Assistance insures travelers from Latin America. It’s sent me on nearly 900 housecalls since the 1980s. It was always a slow payer, but since the turn of the century it began requiring months of pestering before sending a check. Finally I lost patience and demanded that it pay by credit card. Although credit cards charge about six percent of my fee, they’re a big convenience. I punch in a series of numbers; two days later money appears in my bank account.

Slow payment usually means an organization is struggling. It’s maxing out its credit cards and getting them cancelled but keeping others in reserve. A few have gone out of business, owing money, but International Assistance has been irritating doctors for decades; many colleagues refuse its requests. It’s the oldest of half a dozen travel insurers that call me, so this may be a reliable tactic for minimizing cash flow.

How a Hotel Doctor Collects His Fee

Many guests pay cash; most foreigners have travel insurance, and I accept credit cards. Technology makes this easy although the company takes about six percent for the convenience. Using a phone, I dial a computer whose automated voice instructs me to enter half a dozen codes (my bank number, my merchant number, the credit card number, the fee…).

In the past I used the room phone until I noticed guests looking uneasy and remembered that hotels charge for phone calls. Now I use my cell phone, an awkward alternative because the small keypad encourages mistakes. At the end, the computer announces its approval and recites an authorization code which I dutifully copy.

Occasionally it denies approval – not by telling me the card is bad or that I’ve entered the wrong number but by announcing cheerfully, “please hold on while we transfer you to a customer service representative.” Hearing this, I immediately hang up because the company charges anytime someone speaks to customer service. I then dial again and re-enter the numbers. Sometimes this works. If it doesn’t, there is a scramble as guests search for another card or their wallets.

The Great Credit Card Gamble

AXA insures foreign tourists but has grown fond of American insurer tactics which means it has a number of reasons for not paying me.

It took months, many phone calls, and repeat faxes to collect for previous visits, so I lost patience. After accepting a recent call and copying all the information, I told the dispatcher I’d arrive at the guest’s hotel in an hour. Then I threw the dice. I asked for AXA’s credit card.

 “We don’t have a credit card,” he said.

“Yes you do,” I said. All carriers have credit card, but they vary in willingness to give out the number.

“Let me talk to my supervisor.”  There followed a wait of several minutes before he returned.

“We’ll e-mail a guarantee of payment.”

That’s a legalistic statement describing what the carrier covers and how much it will pay. It doesn’t guarantee anything.

“Go ahead,” I said. “But I still need the card number.”

There followed another long wait.

“I’m afraid we’re unable to supply a credit card.”

I wished him good luck in finding a doctor. Since that 2009 dialogue, AXA calls once or twice a year and we have the same exchange.

I should add that I send bills to many agencies that pay reliably. When they don’t, I ask for a credit card. Some carriers agree, but it’s risky.