For a country that will put you behind bars for bouncing a check, the collectors in the UAE sure do have a lax approach when you're ready to sign on the dotted line.
I have lived in my one-bedroom apartment on the seventh floor of a 17-story tower since January 15. The first utility bill (electricity and water) came last week and it was super cheap. Almost too cheap.
The first wireless internet and home phone bill also surfaced and just like the utility bill, it was low. I have splurged on a pair of chicken shawarmas for dinner that cost more.
Only problem: I couldn't pay my Abu Dhabi Distribution Company bill using the Internet. What a world?
So when I walked into their office, which was located in the basement parking area of a nearby mall, I took my DMV-style printed ticket and waited in an empty reception room until my number lit up on a digital display that hung above five desks occupied by bored Emirati men.
When I sat down with one of them -- only after my number flashed above his desk -- he was surprised that I had come in to pay such a low bill. I really wanted to set up an auto-pay system so I wouldn't have to spend any more my free time inside a parking lot basement office.
Confused Emirati employee: Why, you have three months to pay this. Why you come today?
Responsible consumer: No, it says right there on the ticket that it's due today. And why couldn't I pay online?
CEE: Oh, the system has been down.
RC: OK, whatever. Can I set up an auto-pay system with you guys?
CEE: No.
RC: Just no? That's it. Wow.
He sort of wiggled his nostrils, scratched his nose and then looked at his compute screen, which was full of Arabic words and esoteric symbols that I would never understand.
He wrote down a phone number on the back of his lunch receipt and pushed it across the table toward me. He then told me to call that number and I can pay over the phone. I turned it over and discovered he liked chicken shawarmas, too.
So to pay a utility bill, you can't do it online. If it's not a massive bill, then a personal exchange won't work either. Instead, this guy wanted me to call it in. Maybe I should lick a stamp and do it the old-fashion way? Or send a smoke signal??
* * *
Two days later, I realized I was running very low on my meds. Really low, like I had one day's worth (Sorry, mom). So I pulled out my brand-new insurance card and hit the phones. After a few attempts, I was told I could just walk-in from 8am until noon the next day and a doctor would eventually see me.
When I got to the receptionist -- the only man in a very busy room -- he asked if I wanted to make an appointment. I said I didn't need an appointment and just needed a refill. I reluctantly pulled out my old medicine container, which was last filled at a neighborhood grocery store in Sterling, Virginia.
I figured it was a shot in the dark. A medicine container from another continent? He gave me a quick look and then politely asked me to sit down.
The place was full of busy Filipino nurses running around. They were the ones doing all the work. Within five minutes, even before I gave them my DOB, one of them grabbed me and escorted me to a doctor's office.
I was in and out of this place with my prescription filled in 30 minutes. It may have been a new record. Definitely faster than any time I've spent in a U.S. doctor's office. I didn't even have time to read the book I brought for the expected boredom.
And the final bill was less than the round-trip taxi fare from my apartment. I'm not sure if it's because the medical help here is that awesome or if I just have celebrity insurance. But it was pretty sweet.
See kids, it pays to live outside the United States. Now who wants a chicken shawarma?
