Joe had been globaled. Which is to say that the company he worked for had experienced a sharp downturn in business due to foreign competition. The owner of the company laid-off the most recently hired employees and demoted some of the more experienced ones. Joe was one of the ones demoted. He would now be working the line on the grave yard shift. The fact that the company still needed a grave yard shift was encouraging. He hated having to work those hours, but it was still a lot better than joining the growing lines at the unemployment office.
He returned home after the first night of working the night shift. His wife, Maurine, had breakfast ready when he arrived. Everyone called her Mo, and he was awfully tired of all the mojo jokes. They finished the meal quickly. She then dashed off to her job. He walked into the bedroom and closed the shades to make the room as dark as possible. There was no need to set the alarm on the clock. If he were lucky enough to still be asleep when Mo returned from work, she would wake him up for dinner. Since he was not used to sleeping at this hour it took quite bit of time for him to settle down and doze off. He did not sleep for very long because a loud clattering woke him up.
“Oh shit!” he thought, “it’s trash collection day.” He raced into his garage and grabbed the full trashcans. He barely made it to the curb in time for the trash collectors to empty the cans into their truck. Needless to say that it took awhile for him to get back to sleep. He had just managed to do that when the phone rang. It was Maurine.
“Mo, why the hell are you calling me. You know I need to sleep!”
“I was returning your call.”
“Damn it, I didn’t call you!”
“You mean there’s someone else who calls me Poopsie?” she asked, and she hung up on him.
A co-worker was looking at Mo. “That’ll give the old grump something to think about,” Mo said. She then looked down at the message slip.
“Remind me to chew out the receptionist for not including a last name.”
“Oh, great. Now my wife’s screwing with me,” Joe thought. He did not believe there was anyone else calling her poopsie, but her reaction still made him angry. And the anger made it more difficult for him to sleep. He finally managed to doze off when a loud chirping woke him again. He climbed out of bed and over walked to the keypad of the alarm system. The chirping seemed to be coming from the keypad. He could not find the alarm company’s phone number among the emergency numbers on Mo’s list. He pulled out the telephone book and angrily flipped through the pages. The alarm company had one of those automated systems that drive people crazy. When the phone connected, he had to sit through a long recitation of all the great things this company did for its customers. This ubiquitous, ain’t we bitchen, spiel was not doing much to improve his mood. It was followed by a long list of the options to direct you to the right department of the company. There was no technical support mentioned, so he pressed the number for customer service.
A cheerful female voice then said: “All of our customer service representatives are currently busy with other calls. Please enjoy the music while you wait for the next available representative.”
The song that came on was “Running Trough The Jungle,” which is what Joe had felt like he was doing when he was punching in all the numbers in response to the automated menu.
“Thank you for waiting. This is Jill. What may I do for you?”
“The damn keypad is chirping at me.”
“Would you like me to schedule a service call?”
“How soon can you get someone out here?”
“It looks like Thursday’s open.”
“I’m not going to listen to that son of a bitch for two days. Isn’t there someone who can help me now?”
“Let me connect you to our technical support.”
“You have technical support?”
“Of course.”
“Why the hell isn’t it on your phone menu?”
“That’s not my department. Please hold while I redirect your call.”
The phone at the other end rang, and then there was another message telling him to please enjoy the music while waiting for the next available technical advisor. The song they were playing was “Bad Moon Rising.” “It’s going to be a damn bad moon if I don’t get some sleep,” Joe thought. He listened to Credence Clearwater’s full rendition of it before a male voice finally came on the line.
“This is Dan. What may I help you with today?”
“My damn keypad is chirping at me.”
”Press star and then two. Now what message is displayed?”
“None.”
“All right. Press the pound sign to get out of the trouble display. It’s not your alarm system.”
“What do you mean it’s not my alarm system? I can hear the God damn thing.”
“I don’t doubt that something is chirping. Our systems don’t chirp; they beep. The keypads also display any condition that would make them beep. The chirping may be coming from a wireless smoke detector. I might add that people frequently take such detectors down when they get an alarm system with smoke detectors. It’s quite possible that you put one in a drawer or cupboard without removing the battery.”
“You’re sure it’s not the alarm?”
“I’m positive.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“You’re welcome.”
Dan must have missed the sarcasm in Joe’s voice, but it was possible that Dan was right. So Joe started searching his house for the source of the chirping. What he did not know was that Mo had purchased one of those battery operated carbon monoxide detectors last year. She had placed it in the attic near the forced air heater. Joe searched the house for forty-five minutes without finding the cause of the chirping. He was now more convinced than ever that it was the alarm system. He called the alarm company again and went through the same frustrating process of trying to reach technical support. This time Charley answered rather than Dan. Joe repeated the conversation he had had with Dan.
“Well, you can power the system down.”
“That’s your suggestion? Disable the system?”
“If you power it down and there is still chirping, you’ll know it’s not the alarm.”
Joe thought Charley was an arrogant bastard, but he had to admit that the alarm system could not chirp if it did not have any power. He hung up. He then unplugged the alarm and disconnected the backup battery. The chirping continued. He had already looked everywhere he could think of looking for the source of the sound. He tried to sleep on the couch in the living room because it was the quietest place in the house at this time. When Mo came home from work, he told her what had happened. She could hear the chirping, and she thought she knew what was causing it.
“Wait here,” she said.
She climbed up into the attic and removed the batteries from the carbon monoxide detector. The chirping stopped.
“What did you do?”
“I took the batteries out of the carbon monoxide detector.”
“We have a carbon monoxide detector?”
“I bought it last year.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You said we didn’t need one, and I didn’t want to piss you off by telling you I bought it anyhow.”
“Well, I’m sure pissed off about it now.”
“Sorry.”
They ate in silence. She was afraid to tell him about her other mistake. She had made out the payments of their bills yesterday, forgetting that today was a bank holiday. Since she could not deposit her check there was not enough money in their checking account to cover the payments. The bank would probably pay the highest bills first so it could collect more fees on the checks that bounced. The bastards!
After dinner they sat down to watch television. He fell asleep, and she had to wake him up to go to work.
“I’m short on cash. Do you have any?” he asked.
“Yes.”
She pulled her wallet out of her purse and set the purse on the table. The purse fell over to one side. It did not usually do that. She picked the purse up and opened the side where she usually kept her check book. Much to her surprise, she saw all the envelopes addressed to their creditors. She had forgotten to mail the payments. If she made her deposit and mailed the payments tomorrow, everything should get paid on time. “Saved by own incompetence,” she thought. She smiled as she handed Joe ten dollars. He kissed her good night.
“I hope your night is better than your day was.”
“I don’t think it could be as bad.”
He smiled. It could be as bad, but it was not likely to be. What he was really concerned about was tomorrow. Adjusting to this new schedule was not going to be easy under the best of circumstances.
First published in macsbackporch.blogspot.com on Aug. 6, 2009.
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