I sing the voice mail Electric - lost in the ohm-zone
The lights started to flicker around 9:30. The central air was switching faster than Senator Frist in a stem cell debate. I was thinking that maybe the wiring in the new house had the 'haints', but I looked outside and saw the streetlight shimmering like sister Kate. I called NES and after a few rings descended into the 4th circle of hell - voice mail lotto. I punched the option that would allow me to report a problem. They asked me to enter my full 10 digit phone number. I did. The response: You live at 20. If you do not live at 20, please enter your 10 digit number again. Considering I'm not even sure where 20 is, and that my address is not 20 and I live on 5th Avenue, I re-entered my phone number thinking that I had fat-fingered my number the first time...nope, I still lived at 20 according to that automated non-response response.
So I hung up and dialed again. I tried a different tack which was to take the option reporting a transformer fire. This was technically somewhat of a misleading tack, because I didn't really see any flames, but I had seen a few sparks. This time I was taken to an response that told me that NES was not open for business and that business hours were blah blah blah. I tried one more time and got to an option where I could leave a message. By this time my lights were entirely out and I was pretty teed off because I couldn't find the matches and therefore couldn't see into the closet where the flashlights had carefully been hidden...sheesh.
I did leave a message. 3 hours later, an NES truck rumbled down the street and unfurled a ladder reaching to the transformer in question. Lights were back on in about 30 minutes.
I found out later my neighbor also left a message and that NES called her at 4:00 AM to let her know that the electricity was back on.
I was grateful that the electricity was restored, but I gotta wonder how screwed up the NES phone system has to be and why can't there be a human to talk to, even at night. I'm guessing that NES could afford to pay a few peeps to answer the phones considering that the hourly wages in Delhi are still not all that high....
So I hung up and dialed again. I tried a different tack which was to take the option reporting a transformer fire. This was technically somewhat of a misleading tack, because I didn't really see any flames, but I had seen a few sparks. This time I was taken to an response that told me that NES was not open for business and that business hours were blah blah blah. I tried one more time and got to an option where I could leave a message. By this time my lights were entirely out and I was pretty teed off because I couldn't find the matches and therefore couldn't see into the closet where the flashlights had carefully been hidden...sheesh.
I did leave a message. 3 hours later, an NES truck rumbled down the street and unfurled a ladder reaching to the transformer in question. Lights were back on in about 30 minutes.
I found out later my neighbor also left a message and that NES called her at 4:00 AM to let her know that the electricity was back on.
I was grateful that the electricity was restored, but I gotta wonder how screwed up the NES phone system has to be and why can't there be a human to talk to, even at night. I'm guessing that NES could afford to pay a few peeps to answer the phones considering that the hourly wages in Delhi are still not all that high....
