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Saturday
March 13, 2010 Since 1922 |
Just keep my lights on, please!
By Jim Finley
Contributor Published September 16, 2009 For the 1,000,000th time in the last eight years, I lost my electrical power the other day. But who’s counting?
I am. Better make that 1,000,003, since it’s now happened three times in two weeks.
I know in my gizzard that CenterPoint doesn’t mean for this to happen, but doggone it, it does. And it drives me stark-raving mad.
Look, I’m an easy-going, forgiving little toad frog. Even I on rare occasions make a mistake in my important columns (seven errors in the last nine years).
But this power thing happens too much to suit me. Besides, I can barely see when the lights are fully operable.
Here’s another thing, while I’m on my soapbox. Besides complete loss of power, there are other times when the lights just flicker off for a second.
But even with just a flicker, we still have to go around the house resetting clocks. Like most people we have a bunch of clocks. (Do they still make those non-electrical clocks you “wind-up” with a stem in the back to make them work?)
(NON-EDITOR’S NOTE: Has anyone ever really made a speech on top of a soapbox? If so, what brand? Tide, Cheer, 20 Mule Team Borax?)
Fortunately, I wasn’t working on columns that might qualify for a writing prize when the lights died. Indeed, the first time we were not even out of bed. It was 6:10 a.m.
I think human instinct tells you to wait a moment or two and the power will come back on. Many times that’s what happens, and this is good, except you still have to reset the clocks.
That didn’t happen. Little did we know – back on Aug. 28 – it would be almost five hours before power was restored.
What a pain to try and get dressed in the dark. Fortunately, I no longer have to worry about combing my hair.
To make matters worse, when I looked out the window, my fine neighbors across the street had power. Their porch lights were blazing and their electric garage doors were working.
AAAARRRGHHH!
Don’t misunderstand, I’m not upset because they had power and we didn’t. I’m upset because we, on our side of the road, seemed to be hooked up to some sort of “diseased” electrical delivery system and CenterPoint scientists simply can’t cure it.
After a short while in the dark, I finally called CenterPoint. Just my luck. Most of the “real” humanoids were off that day and I was forced to speak to a Female Robot.
After pushing a number of buttons on my phone, I was told that if wires were down or the pole was “on fire,” be sure and let other robots at CenterPoint know. What wires? What pole?
I was also given a warning: If CenterPoint’s trained technicians (live humanoids and not robots, I assume) found the service
disruption was caused by the customer – that would be me – said customer would be charged a $45 fee.
This caused me to wonder: Since this outage WASN’T my fault, would I get $45 taken off my next bill?
Am I a silly goose, or what?
I was informed that “fused wires,” whatever that means, were the problem. (Or maybe, as former Baytown Sun advertising manger Paul Putman used to say, “The string got wet.” Except it wasn’t raining.)
Should be corrected by 8:30, Female Robot announced. Didn’t happen. It was just before 11 before the lights finally came back on.
Then the odious chore of resetting clocks began.
I wasn’t happy about this, but finally I had power and could look forward to the rest of the day. Right?
Not really. At mid-afternoon, the lights flickered off for just a second, stopping the clocks again.
AAAARRRGHHH!
Then last Wednesday, off the power went again – twice. The second time for four-plus hours.
AAAARRRGHHH!
Jim Finley is a retired managing editor for The Baytown Sun.
Contributor Published September 16, 2009 For the 1,000,000th time in the last eight years, I lost my electrical power the other day. But who’s counting?
I am. Better make that 1,000,003, since it’s now happened three times in two weeks.
I know in my gizzard that CenterPoint doesn’t mean for this to happen, but doggone it, it does. And it drives me stark-raving mad.
Look, I’m an easy-going, forgiving little toad frog. Even I on rare occasions make a mistake in my important columns (seven errors in the last nine years).
But this power thing happens too much to suit me. Besides, I can barely see when the lights are fully operable.
Here’s another thing, while I’m on my soapbox. Besides complete loss of power, there are other times when the lights just flicker off for a second.
But even with just a flicker, we still have to go around the house resetting clocks. Like most people we have a bunch of clocks. (Do they still make those non-electrical clocks you “wind-up” with a stem in the back to make them work?)
(NON-EDITOR’S NOTE: Has anyone ever really made a speech on top of a soapbox? If so, what brand? Tide, Cheer, 20 Mule Team Borax?)
Fortunately, I wasn’t working on columns that might qualify for a writing prize when the lights died. Indeed, the first time we were not even out of bed. It was 6:10 a.m.
I think human instinct tells you to wait a moment or two and the power will come back on. Many times that’s what happens, and this is good, except you still have to reset the clocks.
That didn’t happen. Little did we know – back on Aug. 28 – it would be almost five hours before power was restored.
What a pain to try and get dressed in the dark. Fortunately, I no longer have to worry about combing my hair.
To make matters worse, when I looked out the window, my fine neighbors across the street had power. Their porch lights were blazing and their electric garage doors were working.
AAAARRRGHHH!
Don’t misunderstand, I’m not upset because they had power and we didn’t. I’m upset because we, on our side of the road, seemed to be hooked up to some sort of “diseased” electrical delivery system and CenterPoint scientists simply can’t cure it.
After a short while in the dark, I finally called CenterPoint. Just my luck. Most of the “real” humanoids were off that day and I was forced to speak to a Female Robot.
After pushing a number of buttons on my phone, I was told that if wires were down or the pole was “on fire,” be sure and let other robots at CenterPoint know. What wires? What pole?
I was also given a warning: If CenterPoint’s trained technicians (live humanoids and not robots, I assume) found the service
disruption was caused by the customer – that would be me – said customer would be charged a $45 fee.
This caused me to wonder: Since this outage WASN’T my fault, would I get $45 taken off my next bill?
Am I a silly goose, or what?
I was informed that “fused wires,” whatever that means, were the problem. (Or maybe, as former Baytown Sun advertising manger Paul Putman used to say, “The string got wet.” Except it wasn’t raining.)
Should be corrected by 8:30, Female Robot announced. Didn’t happen. It was just before 11 before the lights finally came back on.
Then the odious chore of resetting clocks began.
I wasn’t happy about this, but finally I had power and could look forward to the rest of the day. Right?
Not really. At mid-afternoon, the lights flickered off for just a second, stopping the clocks again.
AAAARRRGHHH!
Then last Wednesday, off the power went again – twice. The second time for four-plus hours.
AAAARRRGHHH!
Jim Finley is a retired managing editor for The Baytown Sun.