Naw, I don't like handing over my simoleons to the electricity monopoly any more than you do. It's just that I figure if Duke Energy gets its money on the front end in a commission-approved rate hike, it won't have to get it on the back end -- by using nefarious business practices such as the one I feel I was victimized by recently.

Last week when the thermometer hit the mid-90s, I entered my house after work to find the electricity had been cut off. I went next door to see if anyone else in the neighborhood was affected, but discovered that nope, it was just me.

The Z.Z. Hill commemorative candles had melted and the armadillo meat in the freezer had thawed and turned a ghastly color of gray not found: I later cooked and ate it anyway, and an hour afterward found myself praying that whoever found my body would let Duke Energy know of its complicity in my agonizing death.

I called Duke Energy and learned my service had been cut off because I hadn't paid the bill.

I knew that, but I also knew that I had previously made arrangements to pay later since I wouldn't be able to make it to the office in time. The automated voice on the other end asked if I'd be able to pay by June 17 and I said, "Right on."

Unfortunately for me, I didn't stay on the line long enough to get a confirmation number. You can bet I'll get one next time, although it's doubtful that even that would have persuaded the Duke Energy people to cut me some slack.

One employee informed me that they don't give dates or confirmation numbers -- I forget which -- by which to pay your bill over the phone.

Have you ever had an argument that you knew from Word One you weren't going to win? Remember when you tried to explain to Sweet Thang that the lipstick on your collar really did come from a woman who stumbled and fell upon your neck to break her fall?

Oh, that was me. Oops.

Even if you're telling the truth, you're still toast. Or, in my case, toasty. And toasted.

Anyway, that's how I felt trying to make my case to three successive Duke Energy supervisors who listened respectfully before informing me there was nothing they nor I could do -- except pay up. Which, if I didn't pay within the next 20 minutes -- it was 4:40 p.m. then -- would cost me $77.

If I didn't want to do that, their tone conveyed, I could just sit in my sweltering crib and melt.

Believe me, it wasn't the reconnection fee that fried my grits so badly. The most infuriating part of the ordeal was the supervisors' cavalier responses, their unwillingness to even entertain the notion that I could've been telling the truth and maybe their computer had messed up, their certainty that, finally, there was nothing I could do but get angry. And pay the bill. Na na na na na.

If anyone else out there has had similar problems with Duke Energy or any other utility companies, let me know. A few years ago, it came out that close to 50 percent of Blockbuster's profits were from late fees.

Of course, we had options then, which is why formerly crowded Blockbuster stores now often seem to be lonely places.

We have, unfortunately, no options when dealing with the electricity monopoly.

Oh yes, we do. But who wants to watch their Z.Z. Hill candles melt without even lighting them.