Senior Executives
Today I made some effort to be useful around here. I’m learning that any confusion over when I should do the work v. when I should back away and let one of my parents handle it themselves is mitigated by my father standing next to something while holding a screwdriver. Limply. This morning, that something was the front porch light.
The existing light worked, but it was weathered, worn and, like everything else in this house, old. Mom wanted to replace it. Vince The Neighbor (also an octogenarian) encouraged this desire by sending his “electrical contractor” son by with an estimate just short of $200 (which even he acknowledged was ridiculous for the job at hand). So at that point I insert myself into the porch light proceedings.
I had taken them to Home Depot over a week ago to buy a new one, but whenever I’d suggest installing it, I’d hear “Oh no. No need today. It’s not like there’s any rush.” or “Oh no. Not right now. It’s too cold today.” and so on and such forth. But today was unmistakably The Day, as evidenced by dads threatening display of the screwdriver mentioned earlier. He even dragged out the step stool, lest there be any doubt.
I’ll condense this: up went the light. Took some doing, as the guy who put the last one up (read: dad) did one helluva’ hack job on the mounting plate. The kicker here is that he got all passive aggressive on me when I insisted on shutting down the circuit breaker before I did any wiring. “Well, I just use the black tape to keep the wires apart rather than doing that” and “Isn’t that more trouble than it’s worth?” and etc. Essentially, while I’m being justifiably allergic to hot wires, he’s apparently afraid of the breaker box. And I’d soon find out why.
The soul of this home’s electrical system must have been installed very soon after Edison got his first business license. There’s crap in that box made out of glass, paper and pieces of the true cross. But I mastered the beast and no lives were lost in the name of porch light improvement. Yet everything I did in the process was supervised, distrusted, second-guessed and eventually accepted only with a begrudging grunt.
Sheesh.
Shortly after declaring Mission Accomplished on the porch, Vince The Neighbor appears for job site inspection and doesn't like the exposed sliver of hole to one side of the new, smaller mount plate. I can't tell him "That's because, Vince, about 30 years ago, my dad chopped a hole big enough to mount a fucking New York streetlight on that wall" so I just sigh and promise to patch it (which, for the record, I was planning to do anyway). Then the phone rings. It’s my aunt from across town and, bizarrely, she’s asking for me. “Oh Illuminaught, am I taking you away from your computer?” “That’s okay, aunt, frankly I wish more people would.” “Well, I’ve got a new phone and I’m trying to set it up, but for the life of me I can’t figure the damn thing out.” “I’ll be right over.” “Are you sure?” “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
So here we are, handsome young me and a baffled, bouffanted woman in her late 70’s pouring over the set-up instructions for a phone/answering machine system. And once again, everything I do along the way is suspect.
I help her record her voice greeting, but have to play it back no less than five times until she believes it’s actually recorded. I show her how to check messages and delete them, how to use the speakerphone and where to look for Caller ID. And all the while she’s grinning a bit like I must be making all this stuff up. I showed her how to turn on the answering machine, but had to call her line from my mobile to prove it worked. I inputted her speed-dial numbers as well, but had to have her call my folks using that feature to convince her of the soundness of my programming. Once again…
Sheesh.
Now don't let me leave the wrong impression: my family (and their neighbors) are Good People and everyone concerned was genuinely grateful when the jobs were done. They just have a knack for making the doing of those jobs as joyless as possible for the doer.
Is it that old smartass Karma again?
With very few exceptions my life is now populated with older, rather cranky people who only trust their own ways of doing things, right-or-wrong, and don’t take kindly to any deviations, even in efforts to help them.
Now I know how my most recent Ex felt.