Mike’s Quest for Power

In our last post, Mike mentioned the challenges we’ve faced in getting the utilities in our new apartment transferred into our name.  This week he’s going to continue the story about our electricity contract. There’s an element to this story that is reminiscent of the old Dragnet TV series in the US. The one that ended each week with the same message:

And, like many good stories, it has an unexpected ending. Here’s Mike to tell the tale.

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During the first week of January, as we got settled into the new apartment in Parede, I began trying to initiate contracts for utilities, usually referred to here as “services”.  My preference was always to use online registration forms instead of in-person visits or phone calls.  When I worked online, I could use two monitors – one with the form and the other with my translation app – and puzzle through the Portuguese.  Calling a help line usually meant hearing a rapid-fire message that I couldn’t understand.  It usually required dialing the number repeatedly and listening to the message over and over until I could figure out the right (or almost right) option.

The water contract was relatively straightforward.  It only took 2 ½ hours and three online chats.   Getting the electricity account transferred turned into a 10 day adventure.  Before I get into the details, let me give you a brief introduction to the Portuguese energy market.

A Different Kind of Energy Market

Electricity is regulated in Portugal by ERSE, Entidade Reguladora Dos Serviços Energeticos – the Energy Services Regulatory Authority.  ERSE’s purpose is to regulate “…electricity, natural gas, liquefied petroleum gas (LPG) in all categories, petroleum-derived fuels and biofuels sectors, and the operations management of the electric mobility [electric vehicle charging] network.”

In the electricity sector, there is a national transmission grid which is operated by another entity, called REN – Redes Energéticas Nacionais, or National Energy Network.  

All of that is similar to what we know in the US.   But what’s different here is that there is a competitive market for energy that allows consumers to choose their provider.  So, unlike in the US, where there is only one local utility company that provides electricity or gas, in Portugal we can choose our provider.  

To tell the truth, I didn’t know this as I was starting to apply for our electricity contract.  But I did notice something that suggested there was a big difference in how service was provisioned.  Our landlord sent me copies of recent utility bills to help me with the cutover.  On the electric bill I found an interesting piece of information.  Along with the customer name, address, and other details was an item called CPE – Código Ponto Entrega or delivery point code.  This is a unique identifier that tells the electric company your exact location.  

At first I couldn’t figure out how multiple companies could provide electricity over a single grid.  How would they know which customer used how much of which company’s electricity?  Now I’m guessing, but I suspect that the CPE identifier is linked to your electric meter and that the amount of power drawn off the grid at your home is then transmitted to your electric company for billing… or some such magic.

Anyway, I didn’t understand all of this as I started trying to get a contract.  I had my old US mindset that forced me to think that I didn’t have any choice but to go with the current provider.  (That company will remain nameless in this post.  I won’t disparage them by name.  They know who they are.) 

Demonstrating The Definition of Insanity

There’s an old saying that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.  During the first week of my electricity adventure, I worked hard to make myself and several other folks crazy.  

I found an online form on the electric company’s web site and slowly worked my way through the 6 or 7 screens of data entry and validation.  There were a couple of data fields that didn’t translate well, so I made a few guesses and submitted the form.  The system responded with an error message.

I took them at their word and called the help line.  When an agent answered, I politely asked if she spoke English.  She replied that she did not, and made no offer to find someone who could.  I thanked her and hung up. I should have recognized this as an omen of things to come.

Next, I sent a note to Elizabeth, our real estate agent.  She had offered to help with the contracting process.  I told her that I just needed someone who spoke English to walk me through the form and ensure that I got the details correct.  Elizabeth’s daughter, Katja, was visiting from Germany and spoke excellent English.  Katja got on the phone and spent a half hour or so with me.  We identified a couple of mistakes, made it to the end of the form, submitted it, and received the same error.

Elizabeth asked me to send a screen shot of the error which I did.  She then called the electric company to try to get an answer.  A while later she sent an email saying she had spoken to an operator who would have some one call me the next day.  They never called. Another omen, ignored.

Over the next couple of days, Elizabeth tried calling the electric company six times. She received varying answers, including “It’s an internal problem”, but mostly “I can’t help you” with no offer of a referral to someone who could.  I tried resubmitting the form several more times.  One day the company suggested I send them a letter requesting service and providing my billing info.  I did that, but got no response.  Omens # 3, 4, and 5.

Finally, on Friday, Elizabeth suggested we go to the company’s office and try to solve the problem in person.  We agreed to go on the following Tuesday morning.

Barbarians at the Gates

On Tuesday morning Elizabeth drove us to the town of Oeiras, about 10 minutes away by car, to find the office of the electric company. It was in a five story building in an office park that could have been anywhere in the world.  As we walked to the door, Elizabeth told me, “We’re not leaving until we get an answer.”  I figured we were in for a long morning.

We walked into the lobby at about 10:20am and Elizabeth spoke to the receptionist.  This was the first of a series of conversations where I was the subject, but not an active participant, since it took place in Portuguese.  But since most of these discussions became animated, I could generally follow the gist of what was being said.  Tone of voice, volume, and body language do a pretty good job of conveying meaning.

Elizabeth explained our purpose to the receptionist.  I didn’t understand what they were saying, but I could tell by the gestures and the tone of the conversation that the receptionist was telling Elizabeth that no one here could solve our problem. 

But Elizabeth was insistent, and I began to think of her as a Portuguese pit bull. They went back and forth for several minutes. I could tell Elizabeth was repeating the problems that we had encountered:  We had submitted the online forms multiple times and gotten errors.  She had called the suggested help lines multiple times and gotten the same response – “I can’t help you”.  After several cycles of explanation – negative response – repeated request, Elizabeth came and sat down next to me.  “She will call someone to talk to us”, she said.

The receptionist made a phone call and a few minutes later, a young woman came into the lobby, apparently from up on the fifth floor.  I don’t recall that she introduced herself or even smiled as she approached. We stood in the corner of the lobby.  She listened to Elizabeth’s explanation and again indicated that they could not solve the problem here. (I heard the word aqui – “here” – several times along with her head shaking.)  Apparently she told Elizabeth that we would have to call someone else.  She couldn’t help us.  I’m sure that at this point Elizabeth repeated our story of calling the no-help lines and told her that we weren’t leaving until we got the problem resolved. 

As the conversation continued, their voices gradually got louder.  I could tell the young woman was getting irritated.  Elizabeth maintained a calm, but assertive composure.  At one point, the young woman took a couple steps backward, as if she was preparing to flee.  She said something to the receptionist and then left the lobby.  

Elizabeth and I sat back down.  She told me that the young woman had agreed to call someone else in the organization who could help us and was going back upstairs to do so.  I figured she was gone for good. 

So we continued waiting.  I had anticipated that getting a resolution would take all morning, if not most of the day, so I was content to bide my time.  There are times when all you can do is recognize that events are out of your control and you might as well just enjoy the show. I was curious to see what happened next.  

While I read emails on my phone, Elizabeth made some phone calls.   

After about 20 minutes, nothing had happened. Elizabeth said she had called the company’s Lisbon office, but no one answered.  

A few minutes later, Elizabeth spoke to the receptionist again, who told her that the young woman from upstairs was calling the police, apparently in an attempt to scare us into leaving.  

Elizabeth asked for the LIvro de Reclamaçoes, the complaints book that every business must maintain and make available to customers. The receptionist would not give it to her.  

In most circumstances, refusal to produce the complaints book would be a damn big deal.  But Elizabeth decided to let that slide for the moment.  Instead, she went outside and called the police.  She asked them if they had received a complaint call from this building. They told her they had not, so she asked them to come because we had a problem.  Then she came back inside and told me what was happening. I thought, “this should be interesting.”

Here Come the Cops

At 11:40 am a police car pulled up and three officers, two men and a woman all in black military-style uniforms, got out.  Elizabeth met them as they came into the lobby.  She brought them to our corner and we stood in a circle about 10 feet from the receptionist desk.  Elizabeth proceeded to explain our situation. 

As with the earlier discussions, there was a lot of back and forth.  Initially, I could tell that the three officers were telling Elizabeth that she wasn’t in the right place to get the problem solved.  But she stood her ground.  I’m sure she kept repeating our complaint and answered each of their objections.  Every now and then I heard a reference to the senhor and one of them would point at me.  

While this was happening, the receptionist was leaning forward over her desk, trying to hear what was being said.  People entering or leaving the building would pause to stare at us, and make quiet comments to the receptionist.  

After a few minutes, Elizabeth and the officers seemed to reach some sort of agreement.  The female officer asked for my passport and rental contract. She took them, walked to the other side of the lobby, and made a phone call.  She was on the phone for about 15 minutes.  At one point she came back and asked for the copy of the electric bill that our landlord had sent me.

While she was talking, two more officers arrived in another car.  One came in and the other waited outside.  After they conferred with the first two officers, they waited for a few minutes, then left.   Shortly after that, the female officer came back and handed me her phone.

She spoke to Elizabeth who translated:  A man on the phone is going to talk with you. When he asks if he can record the call, you should say ‘yes’.  

Olá, Senhor Diego

I wasn’t sure who I was going to talk to, but I spoke into the phone.  A man at the other end introduced himself as Diego. He asked if he could record our call.  I agreed.  The he asked if I wanted to create a contract for electric service.  I was surprised by the question, but hurriedly said yes – sim.  He told me he was going to read my contract details, first in Portuguese, then in English.  He said he would then ask me to confirm that the information was correct.  

At this point, I wanted the others to hear what was happening, so I asked the officer to put the call on speaker.  We stood in a small circle.  The volume wasn’t very loud, so I was bent over, listening carefully.  Elizabeth was on my right. One officer was to my left and the other two were in front of me. 

Diego read through the details of the contract for electric service:  name, address, my tax ID number, CPE, etc, etc.  After each one I agreed – Sim.   When he finished, he said he was sending me an email that would request some additional information. He asked me to verify that I received it.  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and juggled it in one hand while holding the officer’s phone and the other.  In my email I saw something from a sender I didn’t recognize.  The police officer on my left looked at it, nodded, and indicated that was the one.  I told Diego I had received it.  He thanked me and we hung up. 

What Just Happened?

When I looked up at the officers and Elizabeth, I’m sure I must have appeared completely stunned.  Of all the possible outcomes I might have imagined when we started out that morning, this would never have been one of them.  

I was simply amazed. I didn’t know what company I was going to get electricity from or how much it was going to cost.  But a contract was apparently in the works. And Diego had mentioned a 20% discount. 

At this point with the officers, it was smiles all around.  I knew enough Portuguese to say “muito obrigado” – thank you very much – several times.  They nodded and smiled, like this was just part of their normal day’s work.  We serve, protect, and negotiate utility contracts for gringos.  

As we drove away, Elizabeth told me she was just as surprised as I was.  

The Follow Up

When I got home, I translated the email.  It requested a document that would prove my address, so I scanned the relevant pages from my lease and sent it back.  Mary had been out for a walk.  When she got home, I recounted the morning.  She was as amazed as I was.

The next day I reread the email and a couple that had come in later.  What caught my attention was the name of the power company – Gold Energy.  I was puzzled because that wasn’t the company we were originally trying to deal with.  I saw that the emails I’d received were from a company called Selectra, which is a sort of a broker or a clearing house for electric and natural gas services. They had matched me with Gold Energy.  

I googled Gold Energy and learned that they are a small company (about 250,000 customers) that offers 100% sustainable energy generated through solar and wind power. They’ve got a good story to tell on their website, lots of ways contact them, and an extensive FAQ section.  All good, but I wasn’t going to relax until I had a real contract in hand. 

On Thursday, the contract arrived in the email. I looked it over and saw that they had everything right except my birthday. (They think I’m much younger than I really am.)  We can fix that.  

So apparently it’s done. I’m still surprised today as I write this. 

And, had I fully understood the open marketplace concept, I wouldn’t have wasted so much time trying to do business with a company that clearly didn’t care about doing business with me.

One problem remains – I still don’t have a water contract. It’s been lost in the mail. The water company assures me that a new one will be sent next week. So the saga continues.

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What surprising thing happened in your neighborhood this week? Tell the world by leaving a comment below or by sending a note with the Contact Form.

Thanks for reading / Obrigado pela leitura

Mike

The Writer

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