Joys of modern life
I was talking on the phone to my boyfriend (currently about 500 miles away) when all of a sudden the power went out. No storm, no bad weather, no heat wave--no apparent reason for the outage. Just sudden, perfect dark.
Naturally, the phone also went dead. It was of the cordless variety, and I suppose the transmission wave from the handset (running on electricity) cut off.
It was so perfectly pitch dark that it was as if I'd gone blind. The blinds were over the windows, and it's an overcast night here: no moon.
The phone started ringing upstairs. I fumbled my way up and to the one non-cordless phone in the house, walking by memory and homing in on the sound.
It was A, who wondered why we'd been cut off. I told him. I raised the blinds as I spoke and looked outside. No lights in any house. A flicker of a candle in a window as someone started to cope with the problem. I wondered where our candles were. I already know that we need new flashlight batteries. They're on my shopping list--not that that was helping me at all.
Suddenly, I heard a weird electronic bubbling sound coming from somewhere in the pitch-dark house. I apologize to A, hang up, and try to home in on the sound, fumbling around blindly. Turned out that it was the alarm system that was built into the house. We never turned it on because 1) it costs $30 per month to have the security company actually monitor it, and I have enough subscriber fees already, and 2) the false alarms reportedly drive you crazy. But there it was beeping, and something on the wall in the living room--the doorbell chime? the smoke detector? I couldn't see--was also beeping rhythmically.
I wanted to turn said alarm system off. Naturally, I couldn't see what to do. The keys on the keypad were lit faintly, but not well enough for me to see anything.
Beep. Beep. Beep. The keypad was lit up and said "Trouble." No, you idiot machine, the only trouble right now is the trouble you're causing me with your beeping.
After about five minutes of beeping, just about the time I was wondering if it would really be so bad to put a hammer through the wall if it would bring about some silence, the power came on. The machine beeped some more. I pushed a bunch of keys, none of which brought about results at first. Then the machine fell silent. Thank you, God.
The machine informed me that it had a low battery. It still thought there was Trouble, too. I tugged and searched around the machine and could find no way to open it up to install a new battery. Or, better yet, to remove the battery and destroy the alarm system's power source forever. A card posted behind the machine told me that to turn the alarm system off, I needed to enter my three-digit code. I wasn't here when the house was built, and I don't have the three-digit code. I sort of doubt the security company would release it over the phone. The card next to the machine told me to consult my owner's manual for any problems. I don't have an owner's manual, either.
Being resourceful, and blessed once again with the magic elixir of electricity, I consulted the internet. The security company's website had plenty of buttons to click on to subscribe. Plenty of buttons to install a system. Plenty of buttons to let you try out a model online or to let you know that their machines go through a rigorous quality control system. Everything, in fact, but a user's manual that might show you how to remove a battery. Or how to stop a machine from beeping and flashing, irritating the hell out of me but not sending any message to the police.
I am now at a bit of a loss. I'm not a subscriber, so why should the security company do business with me? Why should they send me a user's manual? If they don't post them on the net for security reasons, they might not sell or send me one, either. Again, I'm not a subscriber. But on the other hand, their machine has beeped lengthily and is still flashing warning lights, and I'd like to disable the damned device.
Grumble. I just want NOT to have a beeping security system. Is that too much to ask?
Naturally, the phone also went dead. It was of the cordless variety, and I suppose the transmission wave from the handset (running on electricity) cut off.
It was so perfectly pitch dark that it was as if I'd gone blind. The blinds were over the windows, and it's an overcast night here: no moon.
The phone started ringing upstairs. I fumbled my way up and to the one non-cordless phone in the house, walking by memory and homing in on the sound.
It was A, who wondered why we'd been cut off. I told him. I raised the blinds as I spoke and looked outside. No lights in any house. A flicker of a candle in a window as someone started to cope with the problem. I wondered where our candles were. I already know that we need new flashlight batteries. They're on my shopping list--not that that was helping me at all.
Suddenly, I heard a weird electronic bubbling sound coming from somewhere in the pitch-dark house. I apologize to A, hang up, and try to home in on the sound, fumbling around blindly. Turned out that it was the alarm system that was built into the house. We never turned it on because 1) it costs $30 per month to have the security company actually monitor it, and I have enough subscriber fees already, and 2) the false alarms reportedly drive you crazy. But there it was beeping, and something on the wall in the living room--the doorbell chime? the smoke detector? I couldn't see--was also beeping rhythmically.
I wanted to turn said alarm system off. Naturally, I couldn't see what to do. The keys on the keypad were lit faintly, but not well enough for me to see anything.
Beep. Beep. Beep. The keypad was lit up and said "Trouble." No, you idiot machine, the only trouble right now is the trouble you're causing me with your beeping.
After about five minutes of beeping, just about the time I was wondering if it would really be so bad to put a hammer through the wall if it would bring about some silence, the power came on. The machine beeped some more. I pushed a bunch of keys, none of which brought about results at first. Then the machine fell silent. Thank you, God.
The machine informed me that it had a low battery. It still thought there was Trouble, too. I tugged and searched around the machine and could find no way to open it up to install a new battery. Or, better yet, to remove the battery and destroy the alarm system's power source forever. A card posted behind the machine told me that to turn the alarm system off, I needed to enter my three-digit code. I wasn't here when the house was built, and I don't have the three-digit code. I sort of doubt the security company would release it over the phone. The card next to the machine told me to consult my owner's manual for any problems. I don't have an owner's manual, either.
Being resourceful, and blessed once again with the magic elixir of electricity, I consulted the internet. The security company's website had plenty of buttons to click on to subscribe. Plenty of buttons to install a system. Plenty of buttons to let you try out a model online or to let you know that their machines go through a rigorous quality control system. Everything, in fact, but a user's manual that might show you how to remove a battery. Or how to stop a machine from beeping and flashing, irritating the hell out of me but not sending any message to the police.
I am now at a bit of a loss. I'm not a subscriber, so why should the security company do business with me? Why should they send me a user's manual? If they don't post them on the net for security reasons, they might not sell or send me one, either. Again, I'm not a subscriber. But on the other hand, their machine has beeped lengthily and is still flashing warning lights, and I'd like to disable the damned device.
Grumble. I just want NOT to have a beeping security system. Is that too much to ask?