If the AMA Were in Charge of Changing Light Bulbs
A Cautionary Tale
Technology is wonderful – no doubt about it. Here I am, sitting in front of a computer screen, creating prose that can be instantly disseminated to complete strangers thousands of miles away. Fortunately, the monitor’s screen provides sufficient light for my purposes, for the only other illumination in my home office consists of candles, and it’s after four pm on a dreary December day. After nearly a week of frustration accompanied by not insignificant expense I have yet been able to get the light bulb changed in the ceiling fixture, and have all but given up hope of ever being able to enjoy the miracle of incandescent light in my own home again.
I understand this is my own fault. Ten years ago, when I purchased my home, I was offered an electrical maintenance contract that included having all of the light bulbs in my house changed on an annual basis, according to the schedule recommended by the American Association of Electrical Practitioners. At the time I was unable to afford three hundred dollars a month for this service, which did not cover emergencies or the repairs to systems that constantly changing electrical codes mandated. This last was a not insignificant consideration, for I had been warned that a routine visit from the A.A.E.P. technician usually uncovered code violations, and that until these were remediated, no actual repairs on broken systems would be performed.
For ten years, I jealously husbanded the light bulbs in my household fixtures, knowing that new ones could only be purchased and installed by licensed electrical practitioners. Six years ago I managed to smuggle in a small supply from Canada; since 9-11 and the resulting crackdown on border crossings, this is no longer possible. I moved bulbs from low use to high use areas, and on several occasions feloniously removed working bulbs from the apartments of friends who were about to move. What was I thinking? Perhaps I hoped against hope that the public would eventually wake up to the insanity of our electrical laws; perhaps I imagined that an effective illuminating device that did not fall under those laws, or never wore out, would reach the market before I found myself in the dark.
Alas, this did not happen, and I found myself occupying a three bedroom house with only two working lights: the bulb over the stove in the kitchen and a fluorescent fixture in the master bathroom. This occurred at 7pm on December 17. I called the Electricians Association’s hotline number, and after spending five minutes navigating through recorded messages of an unhelpful nature, such as “please enter the 22 digit code on your household maintenance contract, followed by your social security number and Visa or Mastercard expiration date”, and another five minutes on hold, I was finally connected to a woman in Birmingham, Alabama, who ascertained that no one in my household qualified for ADA emergency illumination assistance, and then told me that I should call back after 9 am on Monday morning.
Fortunately I had my computer monitor, a TV/VCR, a working flashlight, and a large supply of candles. By working next to a large south-facing window while daylight lasted, and arranging tasks so that no close work or reading took place after 4pm, I was able to live a tolerably normal life over the weekend. Promptly at nine on Monday morning, I called the referral number for the local Electrical Association. The lines were swamped with calls from people who had experienced various electrical malfunctions over the weekend. At ten, when I finally got through, I was told that since I did not have an ongoing relationship with a personal electrician, I would need to present myself in person at the offices of PeaceLight, the conglomerate which controls all but a few of Lane County’s licensed electricians.
The imposing, ultramodern business office of PeaceLight, located in an area not served by public transportation, is illuminated in radiant, almost unearthly splendor. Dozens of immaculate clerks sit at VDT terminals, efficiently sending out bills and processing insurance claims for people already enrolled in the system. The un-enrolled and uninsured are sent to a bleak uncarpeted waiting room at the rear of the building, where a single employee hands them a ten page form asking for complete employment history, permission to do a credit report, and details of all electrical malfunctions experienced in the current and previous residences for the last ten years. I noted that signing this form authorized PeaceLight to charge a substantial sum up front to the person’s credit card, merely in order to set up an account and consider the possibility of fixing the person’s problem.
Had my difficulty involved a movable fixture, it might have been possible to obtain repairs then and there. I have since talked to people who recommend deliberately sabotaging a table lamp and taking it to the emergency fixture clinic in order to obtain a part for use in the home. This practice, which is said to be widespread, is highly illegal, and I understand that the state legislature is considering additional sanctions against it.
However, my problems (there were, after all, multiple lights involved, the result of ten years of deferred maintenance) absolutely required a house call, at least if I were to avoid breaking the law. With Christmas coming, PeaceLight had no electricians available to make house calls. There was a two-month waiting list for people who were already enrolled in their maintenance plan. Moreover, they did not have any electricians who were willing to take new clients. I was welcome, they said, to put my name on a waiting list, but I must understand that priority would be given to people who had just moved, and were referred by a realtor. Should I be accepted into the plan, there was a six month waiting period before the monthly fee (now four hundred dollars a month) would cover repairs and maintenance already needed at the time of enrollment.
I asked the customer representative if I were correct in my understanding that I would need to wait at least nine months, and pay a minimum of twenty-four hundred dollars, to have the light bulbs changed in my residence. She confirmed this. I did a quick mental calculation. I live on a fixed income, and despite careful economizing rarely have more than a hundred dollars left over at the end of the month. Important as light is, I simply cannot afford four hundred dollars a month for it. It would benefit me not one whit to have the bank repossess my electrically impeccable house because I could not meet mortgage payments.
People lived for millennia without changing light bulbs. In some parts of the world they still do. Fortunately, candles are still legal, and a person is permitted to keep bees for his own personal use. Fats can be used in lights; the food lobby would never permit the government to outlaw those. I defy even the ingenuity of PeaceLight and the American Electrical Practitioner’s Association to come between me and the sun.
Then, too, I can accept darkness. What a subversive thought! Perhaps, in the scope of things, the degree to which a new light bulb enriches my life does not compensate for all the things pursuing that light deprives me of. Once I have accepted darkness, Peacelight and the American Electrical Practitioners Association lose much of their power over me. Is this what they’re afraid of? Is this why the media constantly bombard the public with hand wringing over the millions of Americans who do not belong to electrical maintenance plans, whose children are failing in school because they can’t stay up until the wee hours doing their homework? Can I hope, vainly, that this crazy system has gotten so out of control, that lawmakers will see that the only alternative to bankrupting the entire economy is to allow people to CHANGE THEIR OWN LIGHT BULBS.
Martha Sherwood
Eugene, Oregon
December 28, 2004
A Cautionary Tale
Technology is wonderful – no doubt about it. Here I am, sitting in front of a computer screen, creating prose that can be instantly disseminated to complete strangers thousands of miles away. Fortunately, the monitor’s screen provides sufficient light for my purposes, for the only other illumination in my home office consists of candles, and it’s after four pm on a dreary December day. After nearly a week of frustration accompanied by not insignificant expense I have yet been able to get the light bulb changed in the ceiling fixture, and have all but given up hope of ever being able to enjoy the miracle of incandescent light in my own home again.
I understand this is my own fault. Ten years ago, when I purchased my home, I was offered an electrical maintenance contract that included having all of the light bulbs in my house changed on an annual basis, according to the schedule recommended by the American Association of Electrical Practitioners. At the time I was unable to afford three hundred dollars a month for this service, which did not cover emergencies or the repairs to systems that constantly changing electrical codes mandated. This last was a not insignificant consideration, for I had been warned that a routine visit from the A.A.E.P. technician usually uncovered code violations, and that until these were remediated, no actual repairs on broken systems would be performed.
For ten years, I jealously husbanded the light bulbs in my household fixtures, knowing that new ones could only be purchased and installed by licensed electrical practitioners. Six years ago I managed to smuggle in a small supply from Canada; since 9-11 and the resulting crackdown on border crossings, this is no longer possible. I moved bulbs from low use to high use areas, and on several occasions feloniously removed working bulbs from the apartments of friends who were about to move. What was I thinking? Perhaps I hoped against hope that the public would eventually wake up to the insanity of our electrical laws; perhaps I imagined that an effective illuminating device that did not fall under those laws, or never wore out, would reach the market before I found myself in the dark.
Alas, this did not happen, and I found myself occupying a three bedroom house with only two working lights: the bulb over the stove in the kitchen and a fluorescent fixture in the master bathroom. This occurred at 7pm on December 17. I called the Electricians Association’s hotline number, and after spending five minutes navigating through recorded messages of an unhelpful nature, such as “please enter the 22 digit code on your household maintenance contract, followed by your social security number and Visa or Mastercard expiration date”, and another five minutes on hold, I was finally connected to a woman in Birmingham, Alabama, who ascertained that no one in my household qualified for ADA emergency illumination assistance, and then told me that I should call back after 9 am on Monday morning.
Fortunately I had my computer monitor, a TV/VCR, a working flashlight, and a large supply of candles. By working next to a large south-facing window while daylight lasted, and arranging tasks so that no close work or reading took place after 4pm, I was able to live a tolerably normal life over the weekend. Promptly at nine on Monday morning, I called the referral number for the local Electrical Association. The lines were swamped with calls from people who had experienced various electrical malfunctions over the weekend. At ten, when I finally got through, I was told that since I did not have an ongoing relationship with a personal electrician, I would need to present myself in person at the offices of PeaceLight, the conglomerate which controls all but a few of Lane County’s licensed electricians.
The imposing, ultramodern business office of PeaceLight, located in an area not served by public transportation, is illuminated in radiant, almost unearthly splendor. Dozens of immaculate clerks sit at VDT terminals, efficiently sending out bills and processing insurance claims for people already enrolled in the system. The un-enrolled and uninsured are sent to a bleak uncarpeted waiting room at the rear of the building, where a single employee hands them a ten page form asking for complete employment history, permission to do a credit report, and details of all electrical malfunctions experienced in the current and previous residences for the last ten years. I noted that signing this form authorized PeaceLight to charge a substantial sum up front to the person’s credit card, merely in order to set up an account and consider the possibility of fixing the person’s problem.
Had my difficulty involved a movable fixture, it might have been possible to obtain repairs then and there. I have since talked to people who recommend deliberately sabotaging a table lamp and taking it to the emergency fixture clinic in order to obtain a part for use in the home. This practice, which is said to be widespread, is highly illegal, and I understand that the state legislature is considering additional sanctions against it.
However, my problems (there were, after all, multiple lights involved, the result of ten years of deferred maintenance) absolutely required a house call, at least if I were to avoid breaking the law. With Christmas coming, PeaceLight had no electricians available to make house calls. There was a two-month waiting list for people who were already enrolled in their maintenance plan. Moreover, they did not have any electricians who were willing to take new clients. I was welcome, they said, to put my name on a waiting list, but I must understand that priority would be given to people who had just moved, and were referred by a realtor. Should I be accepted into the plan, there was a six month waiting period before the monthly fee (now four hundred dollars a month) would cover repairs and maintenance already needed at the time of enrollment.
I asked the customer representative if I were correct in my understanding that I would need to wait at least nine months, and pay a minimum of twenty-four hundred dollars, to have the light bulbs changed in my residence. She confirmed this. I did a quick mental calculation. I live on a fixed income, and despite careful economizing rarely have more than a hundred dollars left over at the end of the month. Important as light is, I simply cannot afford four hundred dollars a month for it. It would benefit me not one whit to have the bank repossess my electrically impeccable house because I could not meet mortgage payments.
People lived for millennia without changing light bulbs. In some parts of the world they still do. Fortunately, candles are still legal, and a person is permitted to keep bees for his own personal use. Fats can be used in lights; the food lobby would never permit the government to outlaw those. I defy even the ingenuity of PeaceLight and the American Electrical Practitioner’s Association to come between me and the sun.
Then, too, I can accept darkness. What a subversive thought! Perhaps, in the scope of things, the degree to which a new light bulb enriches my life does not compensate for all the things pursuing that light deprives me of. Once I have accepted darkness, Peacelight and the American Electrical Practitioners Association lose much of their power over me. Is this what they’re afraid of? Is this why the media constantly bombard the public with hand wringing over the millions of Americans who do not belong to electrical maintenance plans, whose children are failing in school because they can’t stay up until the wee hours doing their homework? Can I hope, vainly, that this crazy system has gotten so out of control, that lawmakers will see that the only alternative to bankrupting the entire economy is to allow people to CHANGE THEIR OWN LIGHT BULBS.
Martha Sherwood
Eugene, Oregon
December 28, 2004
Labels: humor about healthcare
posted by Moldy Martha at
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