Power Struggle
Yesterday afternoon, a Thursday around two o’clock, there was an unexpected knock at my door. Thinking it might be my neighbor from upstairs, I open the door to a man wearing a hardhat and carrying a clipboard. He’s glancing over some papers and takes his time before looking up. He introduced himself as a heartless minion of BGE, our chosen power purveyor, and was here to turn off our electricity. My comic timing being off, I lacked the requisite beverage for a proper spit-take. If there is a dry-heave equivalent to a spit-take, that’s what I did. Whatever it was it was a damned unpleasant sensation. I was, at first, angry at this little man with the clipboard and hardhat. And why the fuck did he even need a hardhat? What exactly is involved with turning off someone’s power? Is there tunneling involved, or will he be working on scaffolding? No, mother-fucker, you push a button on a fucking box. Where a hat more fitting to your work, say...I don’t know...what are heartless corporate henchmen wearing this season?
These horrible, anti-social thoughts fluttered briefly through my cluttered mind before remembering that I was dealing with another human being. A human being who has the power to make my life practically unlivable at a glance of a clipboard and the flip of a switch. I knew I had to win him over. This guy’s seen it all and has heard every sob story from every Harry Hardluck. I was no different.
I explained the circumstances to him in a calm, slightly ingratiating manner and did so truthfully. My landlady, now my ex-landlady, has declared bankruptcy and has “surrendered” (her word) the house to the bank. Which bank? I have no idea. Along with my rent every month, I pay a portion - an unfair one I contend - of the utilities. My landlady, in turn, pays the bills which are all in her name. Or at least that’s what supposed to happen. Somewhere between my landlady and her creditors things went missing.
That’s essentially what I told him. There was more to the story, but I wasn’t prepared to invite him in for tea and cake, so I skipped ahead to the begging portion of my presentation. I went straight for the “But think of the children” strategy. That was really my only good option. It was true that there are children in the house. My son is here half of the week, and upstairs houses a three-year old, a ten-year old and a twelve-year old. Try living below that by the way. Add three adults to the mix and I’m never without the sound of thundering hooves from above. It’s about as relaxing as you might imagine. Like the sound of waves. Or the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
I gotta give the guy credit, he was pretty immovable. My story was all but wasted on him. His actual words were, “I don’t care.” He elaborated somewhat and offered an easy solution, “Somebody gotta pay the bill. I don’t care if it’s her or you.” I fell back to using the kids as emotional weapons. Something told me this guy was a grandfather, or at least a parent at one time. He had to have some spark of humanity somewhere beneath that orange vest. I asked if we could get an extension, or if there was a number I could call. Thing is, I never received any notice that the bill had been unpaid for some time and that they were weaning us from Edison’s tit. It just would have been nice to know ahead of time so I could have filled my bathtub with electrons.
After convincing him that there were children in the house, he relented and said “One day. If it don’t get paid I’m back here tomorrow.” I thanked him and he moved on to the next deadbeat’s doorstep. I immediately knocked on the neighbor’s door and explained the situation to him. We agreed between us to pool our money and pay the bill. I had a photo shoot that kept me unavailable between five am and eight pm. He assured me that he would take care of it and that we’d square up later. I figured I had a 50/50 chance to coming home to no electricity. I was not looking forward to that. Max was with me and it was going to be cold tonight. When we pulled up to the house shortly before eight pm, it was dead dark. The neighbors cars were both gone. I did not have a good feeling about this. I made my way up the dark and rotting front steps without incident, unlocked the door, flipped on the porch light. Nothing. Flip the switch next to it for the hallway light, and ah, light glorious light! Bulb was out in the porch light again.
After watching a nature documentary about Antarctica with Max in warmth and comfort, I put him to bed and did all of the laundry. And I’m charging my phone. And my electric razor. And my laptop. Just in case.
These horrible, anti-social thoughts fluttered briefly through my cluttered mind before remembering that I was dealing with another human being. A human being who has the power to make my life practically unlivable at a glance of a clipboard and the flip of a switch. I knew I had to win him over. This guy’s seen it all and has heard every sob story from every Harry Hardluck. I was no different.
I explained the circumstances to him in a calm, slightly ingratiating manner and did so truthfully. My landlady, now my ex-landlady, has declared bankruptcy and has “surrendered” (her word) the house to the bank. Which bank? I have no idea. Along with my rent every month, I pay a portion - an unfair one I contend - of the utilities. My landlady, in turn, pays the bills which are all in her name. Or at least that’s what supposed to happen. Somewhere between my landlady and her creditors things went missing.
That’s essentially what I told him. There was more to the story, but I wasn’t prepared to invite him in for tea and cake, so I skipped ahead to the begging portion of my presentation. I went straight for the “But think of the children” strategy. That was really my only good option. It was true that there are children in the house. My son is here half of the week, and upstairs houses a three-year old, a ten-year old and a twelve-year old. Try living below that by the way. Add three adults to the mix and I’m never without the sound of thundering hooves from above. It’s about as relaxing as you might imagine. Like the sound of waves. Or the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
I gotta give the guy credit, he was pretty immovable. My story was all but wasted on him. His actual words were, “I don’t care.” He elaborated somewhat and offered an easy solution, “Somebody gotta pay the bill. I don’t care if it’s her or you.” I fell back to using the kids as emotional weapons. Something told me this guy was a grandfather, or at least a parent at one time. He had to have some spark of humanity somewhere beneath that orange vest. I asked if we could get an extension, or if there was a number I could call. Thing is, I never received any notice that the bill had been unpaid for some time and that they were weaning us from Edison’s tit. It just would have been nice to know ahead of time so I could have filled my bathtub with electrons.
After convincing him that there were children in the house, he relented and said “One day. If it don’t get paid I’m back here tomorrow.” I thanked him and he moved on to the next deadbeat’s doorstep. I immediately knocked on the neighbor’s door and explained the situation to him. We agreed between us to pool our money and pay the bill. I had a photo shoot that kept me unavailable between five am and eight pm. He assured me that he would take care of it and that we’d square up later. I figured I had a 50/50 chance to coming home to no electricity. I was not looking forward to that. Max was with me and it was going to be cold tonight. When we pulled up to the house shortly before eight pm, it was dead dark. The neighbors cars were both gone. I did not have a good feeling about this. I made my way up the dark and rotting front steps without incident, unlocked the door, flipped on the porch light. Nothing. Flip the switch next to it for the hallway light, and ah, light glorious light! Bulb was out in the porch light again.
After watching a nature documentary about Antarctica with Max in warmth and comfort, I put him to bed and did all of the laundry. And I’m charging my phone. And my electric razor. And my laptop. Just in case.