August 12, 1999
Dear Everyone:
Quite the little bit of excitement at work last
week. Thursday afternoon,
around 4:00, one of the guys out in the warehouse got onto a
forklift to go
and pull a box he needed to look in to.
(This is our Number One research guy, the one the paralegals call
and ask, "Can you find a record proving that “That Other Company” sold
this “facility” in
Jacksonville, Florida in 1952?”)
The forklift suddenly became possessed, not unlike
something out of a
Stephen King novel. It
(the forklift, not the novel) began turning to the left.
Our guy is frantically wheeling right, but the evil spirit inside
the forklift continues to turn left.
Our guy tries the brakes; the forklift won’t stop.
In fact, the forklift didn’t stop until it hit the
water pipe. That’s right, an
unprotected water pipe coming out of the concrete floor and going up to
the two-story-high ceiling, where it feeds into a confusing, and
completely incomprehensible array of piping.
So now we have our very own indoor fountain,
spraying water in all directions.
In a warehouse containing over 300,000 boxes of paper records,
not to mention forms, supplies, and
pallets upon pallets
of boxes of special envelopes (used for mailing your xxx bill to you).
(FYI, if you have paper records that get wet, and
they’re really important, irreplaceable papers, put them in a plastic
bag, or plastic wrap, as flat as you can make them and then pop them
into the freezer. Once paper
records get wet, they will begin to grow mold within 24 hours.
But frozen records can, literally, be safely stored for decades.
This gives you time to find someone who can
freeze-dry the
pages for you. Look in the
Yellow Pages
under
Business Continuity or
Disaster
Recovery. Or just keep
the records frozen until you don’t need them anymore.)
Meanwhile, back at our own disaster…
The guy who bumped the pipe called the emergency
number (in Company Park).
They said they would send someone out as soon as possible.
At the same time, one of the contractors grabbed the
pallet jack and
started moving pallets of boxes out of the path of the stream that was
beginning to form. These
contractors may not speak much English, but they know how to move
pallets quickly.
Luckily most of the boxes in the general area of
“Lake Company” were on pallets and easily moved.
But there were others, large boxes for rolled documents, like
maps and “things”, that were standing on the floor.
And the “lake” was slowly heading their way.
Another guy ran out to the loading dock and brought back two
large bags of kitty
litter. We poured the
litter out to form a little
dike in front of these boxes.
In the meantime, the lead contractor decided that
“as soon as possible” was not good enough.
He went outside and figured out where the main shut-off valve was
and closed it, thus turning off the indoor fountain.
And all of the water in the building.
About 45 minutes later, the emergency crew (two
men) showed up. They
determined that turning the water off was probably a good idea.
They took a look at the pipe,
which technically, was just “nicked” and said they would have a plumber
on the premises by 7:00 the next morning.
They also put hand-written notices on all restroom doors that
read, “Out of Service. No
water.” Then they left.
In the meantime, I sent an email to everyone that
the water would be off until further notice.
But, since most people had already left the building by 4:00,
they would not discover until they arrived for work Friday morning that
there would be a) no water; b) no coffee; c) no restrooms (priority to
be determined by the individual).
During the night, extra janitors were called in to
clear up all the water. The
next morning, the floor was looking remarkably clean, with the exception
of the kitty litter dike, which actually did work.
The water really did get as far as one end of the dike, but never
got all the way through.
(I had to ask, Why did they have two large bags of
kitty litter out at the dock?
It seems the forklifts are actually about 90%
battery.
The acid in the
batteries has to be topped off from time to time.
The kitty litter is in case any acid spills.)
The plumber, who was supposed to be there at 7:00
Friday morning, eventually showed up and managed to replace the damaged
pipe by noon. The pipe is
currently “protected” by a couple of damp-looking pallets leaned
together with an orange cone.
This is to prevent anyone from stepping into the hole in the
concrete, which had to be opened with a jackhammer.
In other news…
Unbeknownst to me, my home phone line mysteriously
got switched with someone else’s some time last week.
My first clue to this came Saturday afternoon when someone called
about my “report of problems with your phone”.
I told the person I hadn’t reported any problem.
Wasn’t this 837-yada-yada-yada?
No, my number is 552-yada-yada-yada.
But this was the number he had called.
Was I sure? Yes, I
was sure I knew my own phone number.
That was it until Sunday afternoon when I called "Jeannie" to
complain that she hadn’t called me like she was supposed to.
"Jeannie" said she had been trying to reach me for
three days, but that I (and the machine) never answered.
I tried calling my number myself.
When you call yourself, you get a busy signal because the phone
is off the hook. I didn’t
get a busy signal; I got ring…ring…ring…ring…ring…ring…
So I called the phone company and talked to a live
person since my predicament didn’t fit any of their “press…” choices.
(“To report that your phone line is crossed with someone else’s,
press 666.”) The operator
confirmed that my number was not even showing up on her screen and said
she could send out a technician some time on Tuesday.
In the meantime, I could call out, but no one could
call me. So I waited until
Tuesday, hoping that they wouldn’t dispatch one technician (from the
first report of trouble) to clear up the crossed lines, only to dispatch
a second technician (from the second report—mine) to switch them back
again.
During the day, on Tuesday, I would periodically
call my phone. Each time, I
would get ring…ring…ring…ring…ring…
Until just after 4:00, when I heard the welcome sound of my own
voice, “You have reached the Wood residence…”
So all is well, now.
Until next time. And
the bewitched forklift, nicknamed “The
Widowmaker”, is currently on the disabled list.
Love, as always,
Pete
| Previous | Next |