Muttering when the lights went out (06/11/08)

I apologize to anyone who heard me Thursday.

There wasn't a lot of vulgar language, but there was enough that I'm not proud of myself.

My parents would be weighing in, if they were still alive.

The first outburst came about 11:30 a.m. That's when the lights went out and an expletive jumped out of my mouth.

It wasn't one of the really bad ones, but it was bad enough. And - as usual - it didn't help solve the problem.

The trouble with power outages, aside from the fact that they make you feel as primitive as a Neanderthal, is that you have no idea how long they'll last. Do you plan for 15 minutes or 15 hours?

We started, fools that we are, with the 15-minute scenario. Where we got that vision of electrical company workers flying in like superheroes, we'll never know. The fact is most of those folks were already in southern Indiana, where problems were much worse.

You could almost hear the supervisor saying, "Downtown Portland? Big deal. We'll be there next week."

Fortunately, they didn't wait a week. But the repairs did take longer than expected.

Reporter Rachelle Haughn headed out to the scene and called back about 1 p.m. to say that things might be fixed within an hour.

No such luck, of course.

Now, the real problem with a situation like this is one of communications. Every motor route driver and every out of town carrier had to be contacted by phone. These folks are independent contractors, so there's only so much they can deal with before it collides with other jobs.

Trouble is, we didn't have much to communicate.

I remember at one point in the afternoon being asked for an estimate on when the papers would be in the hands of the motor route drivers. I made a very rough guess-timate then said, "I've been wrong all day, so who knows."

The 2 p.m. estimate changed to 2:30 p.m., and by now CR managing editor Mike Snyder was talking with I&M's public relations staff.

When the 2:30 p.m. estimate came and went without power, a certain amount of cynicism about PR guys was evident.

The next estimate was 4 p.m., and we were delighted that the lights came on at 3:30 p.m.

It was the ultimate in public relations: Under-promise, over-deliver.

But still, with the power back on, there were complications.

The staff was just getting ready to finish the final two pages of the paper right before the lights went out.

And the computer system's server - where those pages had been saved - was out of commission.

It was at that point, with power restored but no access to key computer files, that my vocabulary again descended to the cellar. I'm not sure exactly what I muttered under my breath, but I am sure that it doesn't need to be repeated in this newspaper.

The only recourse was to re-build the final two pages from scratch.

In the end, it did get done.

But by then, the phones were starting to ring.

With the press run delayed about four and a half hours, folks were calling to ask where their papers were.

To our readers' credit, everyone who called in was understanding. In some cases, you could almost hear them smack themselves on the forehead, since their electricity had been out as well.

Three or four of us fielded the calls. And when the press run was finished, twice as many people as usual inserted advertising fliers.

Then, instead of two drivers taking bundles of papers to carriers, six people did the job.

We weren't able to make up all the lost time, of course. It was 6:30 p.m. before I was able to get papers to Penn-ville. But, with a little teamwork, we recovered pretty quickly.

Just the same, I'd prefer to have the lights stay on and the computers keep running.[[In-content Ad]]