I subscribe to The Economist, which is an intelligent and very well-written magazine.  Imagine my surprise on discovering that its subscription department is apparently run by blithering idiots . . . or maybe chimpanzees . . . or maybe mindless machines.

Here's the story in a nutshell.  Without realizing that I already subscribe, someone gave me a gift subscription.  I e-mailed customer service at The Economist, asking whether the gift subscription could be used to extend my current paid subscription.  I got a reply, obviously generated by a computer, that did not answer my question.  I sent two more messages.  More irrelevant responses came.

That is bad enough, but the real insult came when I received a bill for $77 for extending my subscription.  In short:  I have a paid subscription for a year, someone gave me a gift subscription, and The Economist is now billing me for a renewal.  Obviously, the words "extend my current subscription" were all that got read in my e-mail inquiries.

I am sending this physical letter to three different addresses at The Economist: 

"Please see the enclosed e-mail exchanges.  Here, in simple sentences that you can perhaps understand, are the facts.

1. I have a paid subscription to The Economist that expires August 2, 2008.
2. Without knowing I had a subscription, somebody gave me a gift subscription.
3. I sent an e-mail asking if the gift subscription could be used to extend my paid subscription.  (See enclosures)
4. Your automated e-mail service sent an irrelevant answer. (See enclosures)
5. I wasted a lot of time conversing with that machine. (See enclosures) Now, I am being sent a bill for extending my subscription.

In short, I have a paid subscription, I get an additional gift subscription, and your totally dysfunctional subscription department bills me for $77.  I respect The Economist as a magazine; that's why I subscribe.  However, your handling of this matter has me furious, and it takes considerable restraint to keep from using obscenities to express what bunch of blithering idiots you people in the subscription department are.

You'll not get another penny from me, and despite the quality of the magazine, I don't care if I never see another issue."

Perhaps The Economist will recognize and rectify the error, though it is more likely that I will get duplicate copies of the magazine and a continuing flow of bills.  In any event, by turning everything over to an automated system in an attempt to save time and human effort, the magazine's subscription department has made more work for itself and has utterly alienated a paid subscriber.

The Economist is not alone.  Numerous companies and organizations create the same fubars every day with their computer-generated e-mails and exasperating telephone menus.  There is only one remotely possible way of stopping this nonsense:  complain emphatically and then, if possible, sever all relationships with the company.  As my letter implies, I will never subscribe to this magazine again – not because it's a bad product but because I don't like the way the business botches customer service.