Last week I did not expect for my power to abruptly be turned off. Last week I even less expected for it to be turned off for 5 days. But so it happened, and I lived to the tell tale!
My epic tale of adventure and pre-industrial era existence began quietly enough last Thursday with my going off to work as I am want to do not knowing that upon my return later that afternoon, none of my light switches would work. The AC was dead. The refrigerator was warm. The internet was kaput. I was sad but not terribly surprised as a few weeks prior the utility company had sent me a vague yet threatening letter to call them to set up my electricity under my name. I had promptly done so, but calling it appeared was only part of a process which was to include also obtaining a "notarized signed land lord statement" which was... well they didn't really tell me. They also didn't tell me when I needed to get this in by. Just that if I didn't I'd one day find my power taken away and my pets heads falling off. Unfortunately the threat was sufficiently vague that I was insufficiently motivated to aggressively pursue this "notarized signed land lord statement." I sent an email, made a phone call to a voice mail it seems no one listens to, and that was that. A few weeks passed by and there I found myself, at about 19:00 in the early evening standing in the front of my apartment with no lights.
The next day I knew I had little time to get the holy paperwork taken care of so I spent a sizable portion of my work day making repeat phone calls to a voice mail it seems no one listens to. Finally around lunch time I left a message presenting clear, specific instruction of what to fax and who to fax it to. This was not done. Finally around 16:00 I finally got a hold of someone in the apartment office and they agreed to do the fax. I called the electric people and they said, yeah, didn't get the fax yet but our fax people leave at 16:00 so it'll probably have to wait till next week.
So I was left to survive the weekend. I had to resort to trapping local small game, burning small scraps of wood to boil a pot of water to run a steam turbine to power my AC, wrapping myself in pelts to keep warm at night, and driving around town to find sufficient internet access. This was unfortunately a fairly rainy period of time in New Hampshire so it involved a fair amount of running to and fro from my car to the library and back again. While I still had left over hot water for my shower things weren't too bad.
Then came Monday; things started getting annoying. I had just been on call the whole weekend which limited some my sleep but also limited some the time spent staring into the darkness that had become my apartment. I once again tended to the phones this time calling the utility people who told me it sometimes takes four hours for the fax people to talk with the not-fax people to coordinate the resumption of services. I should call back around lunch to see if the fax had been received and processed. Lunch came and, no, the fax had not be received. In either case, I was told, my fax would have been deficient a number of very important pieces of information like my phone number. Which I had already told them numerous times over the very phone whose number I was providing them with. I nevertheless called the landlord, they said they did it, I said send it again.
The next day. More rain, less hot water. Today I learned they had received my fax! But it was deficient. Despite being told specifically what to have faxed over, I was not told sufficiently what to fax over as the list provided was missing, apparently, my move in date. Without this well the thought of giving a powerless person power was just plain ridiculous. I needed to send a third fax. Ok, the rules are rules and although it seems the people at both the electric company and my apartment are questionably competent at their jobs I had myself gotten into this mess largely because of my own laziness. I expressed my great dissatisfaction about being told a number of different fax requirements by a number of different reportedly fax-knowledgeable people who apparently all failed the fax portion of the standardized electric company customer service test. Anyway, send fax number three!
That night I was starting to get a little tired of my relatively boring existence (it seems there's not too much to do in an unlit apartment alone after dark) and a little frustrated with the process. The next day I would become even more frustrated when I would call once more and find, fax number four: lost in the universe! Once again the Great New England Fax Monster ate my fax and left me with nothing but tears and an uncooperative, inefficient system entirely indifferent it seemed to my plight. The solution offered, send another fax! I protested, asked why the hell did I need to send yet another fax, pleaded, begged, perhaps cried, and finally it was made known to me there was another way. Just say I'd take care of the billing issue myself -- which unbeknownst to me was apparently the underlying problem all along (dividing up which part of the bill I owed and which part my apartment manager owed) -- and they'd flip the switch. But not until the next day. Once more I protested, begged, pleaded, cursed the stars in the sky, and perhaps shouted a few profanities and after a brief placement on hold I was told they'd see if the switch flipper guy could fit me in that day. And, gloriously, he did. I returned home Wednesday evening to sweet beautiful power. Five days later.
I honestly did not much mind not having electricity for the better part of the week. The lack of internet was inconvenient but I enjoyed visiting other parts of town to obtain it. I certainly didn't like the lack of hot water, and a hot stinky fridge is not very kind to the pocket book or the senses, but all in all it wasn't too bad. I was nevertheless surprisingly happy by the resumption of electricity. Although one can get by in the darkness with the assistance of a head lamp for guidance, it is amazing the pleasure of getting by with just the flick of a switch. And a fridge fold of cold drinks is far more satisfying than a fridge full of lukewarm drinks. Fortunately there were no slap-stick falls in the night during the week and once I had light again my life resumed its usual humdrum pace. The moral of this story clearly being: if the electric company sends you a vague yet threatening message do what they say else they'll turn off your power and just generally not give a shit.
I think one of the worst parts of the whole experience, however, was the end of one particularly long phone conversation with the electric company which went something like this....
Customer Service: ... [finished explaining instructions] ... alright is there anything else I can help you with?
Me: ... [summarized the instructions] ... is that it?
Customer Service: ... [resummarized the instructions] ... ok have I answered all your questions? Is there anything else I can help you with today?
Me: No I think I got it. I'll call tomorrow morning as instructed.
Customer Service: ... [resummarized the instructions again] ... and that's it. Is there anything else I can help you with today?
Me: No, I'm good. Thanks. I'll call tomorrow.
Customer Service: ... [resummarized the instructions yet again] ... Have I answered all your questions? Is there anything else I can help you with?
Me: No more questions. Thanks for the help.
Customer Service: ... blah blah blah [nonsense] ... Have I answered all your questions? Is there something else I can help you with?
Me: No.
Customer Service: ... [long boring goodbye thanking me for my business] ... [more scripted nonsense wishing me a good evening] ... [an insufferable amount of time later] ...
Me: *click.*
And that's how I survived the Great Energy Crisis of 2011. By mostly avoiding my home.
The end!
Or...
To be continued!
Hurricane Irene's churning up the Eastern seaboard, and she's angry I'm told. And bringing with her great storm surges, powerful winds, drenching downpours, plagues of locusts, the death of every first born. Although I am every bit convinced she will die out an unexciting death once fully over land as all hurricanes have ever done, I am nevertheless a bit concerned my beloved power will be leaving me again shortly. I'm told New Hampshire power lines are mostly made of bamboo kabob skewers taped together with discount duct tape. Let us pray. For my power.
Oh, and this has been a powerful metaphor about the Libyan Revolution and fall of Muammar Gaddafi.
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