The Automobile Association (AA), for instance, recognises such loyalty and staying power by rewarding me with a 33 per cent discount for a similar length of stay, and throws in the added privilege of unlimited free callouts.
For all I know, the AA officer salutes when he turns up to the rescue as well. I wouldn't know, it's been so long since I needed one. Even two years' AA membership qualifies for a 10 per cent discount.
Still, 3 per cent was better than nothing. Then I read on. This discount wasn't intended to be a belated and miserly reward for decades of past loyalty at all. It was an attempt to lock me into another two years of "loyalty".
Biting their tongues hard, the "Team at Mercury" added "It's our way of saying thanks".
Yeah right. Hidden below the fold in the small print was the catch. I had to sign a loyalty clause, agreeing that if I proved disloyal over the next two years and walked away, "a $150 early termination fee applies".
It got worse. The "offer" would be automatically renewed after each two-year period, unless the "loyal" consumer remembered, or realised, he had to give Mercury 30 days written notice cancelling the deal. All of which rather debases the word loyalty.
After 40 years, they're still so distrustful and suspicious that I'll run off to some Flash Harry suitor down the road that I have to agree to pay a fine of $150 if I rustle up the energy to decamp.
A world-weary business colleague's theory is that Mercury must fear its rivals are planning to lower power prices, and are trying to lock existing customers into two-year contracts before they run off to cheaper deals.
He said to check out whichever website it is that compares prices, that there must be better deals afoot. He could be right, and I suppose I should, but really, life is too short.
Of course, given my past indolence when it comes to chasing cheap kilowatts, or for that matter, the best telephone/internet package, it would probably pay me to hold my nose and sign up for the miserable 3 per cent on the better-than-nothing principle.
But niggling away is the question, what is Mercury planning to do over the next two years that makes it think it has to slap the ankle bracelets on to me to prevent me wandering?
In Mercury's favour, at least it wants to retain me as a customer after all these years, unlike Southern Cross Healthcare, which is on a single-minded crusade to cull longstanding members like myself by racheting up our fees each time the anniversary of our joining looms into view.
Admittedly, a few years back, I was lured into a similar loyalty scheme by Telecom. It was in the midst of the broadband wars when the new boys on the block were making deep inroads into the staid old telecommunication veteran's traditional market.
On offer were some famous brand headphones. Hardly top of the range stuff, and I didn't need them. But being a sucker for music-related toys, I quickly promised to be a loyal Telecom customer for another 18 months or pay the cash penalty.
This time? Well, at least I've got that freepost envelope, which will come in handy when I post off my monthly power cheque.
