Hour 1
It happens in an instant.
The power cuts out mid-Zoom, right as you’re fake-nodding through someone’s “quick update” that’s already clocked in at 17 minutes… not that you’re counting.
The screen goes black. The fan stops spinning.
And you find yourself staring at your watery reflection against a dead monitor.
You blink like a dog that’s just seen a magic trick.
Then ask yourself a very dumb question:
“Did my power go out?”
Yes. It did.
The power’s out, your phone’s about to die, and you have another call in 20 minutes.
Hour 2
You hear a rumor about free Wi-Fi and power at Starbucks. So you relocate, which is humiliating.
You used to mock the laptop people—AirPods in, overcompensating posture, taking calls like they’re leading a merger.
Now you are one.
Your next call starts in five minutes, and the only seat with a charging port is directly under a speaker, which is giving the business its money’s worth.
So you do something you hate:
Ask for a favor.
You approach the barista with a preemptive apology.
“I’m sorry I’m asking this, but do you mind turning the music down just a tad?”
The cashier, with a doughy face and blue-blonde hair, replies, “Oh, it’s okay. People always ask if it’s a Starbucks or a nightclub.”
You nod and think you’ll remember that line forever.
Hour 3
The call was distracted at best.
Really, how can anyone have a good call at a cafe?
Then your phone chirps, and you fly to it.
An update: “Power should be restored in 2 hours.”
You scan the room and sigh in relief. Just two more hours in this hellhole, and you can go home.
Happiness hits you.
You feel good about the system. The infrastructure is strong. The tax dollars are working.
So you celebrate with another $6 cup of coffee—because optimism is expensive.
Hour 4
Your phone chirps again.
“Power should be restored in 2 more hours.”
They just punted the ball back, and you feel personally betrayed.
Like the electric company knew they were going to let you down—they just waited long enough for hope to take root.
By now, Starbucks is filling up and everyone in earshot is having the same conversation:
“When will the power come back on?” with heads scanning the room, looking for shared sympathy.
You think: We’re all a bunch of over-caffeinated, Wi-Fi-starved schmucks
It’s depressing, so you grab your half-charged phone, bolt out the door, and forget to check if you have your wallet.
Hour 5
You return home.
It’s hot.
Giving hell a run for its money.
Your cat is looking at you like, “Fix it.”
You look back and whisper, “I’m sorry, I relied on the system.”
The moment is silent but somehow still loud.
Then you stand on the porch in the one square foot where Wi-Fi flickers in like a ghost and call a friend to start ranting about taxes and infrastructure.
He suggests meditation.
You consider deleting his number.
Hour 6
Another update: 2.5 more hours.
It gets pushed back again.
You now believe the electric company is gaslighting you.
Like they know they’re not going to fix it, but don’t have the balls to say it.
So you go outside and shoot a basketball expressionlessly.
Nothing but air.
You don’t care.
Hour 9
You wake up from a sweaty nap to a new update: 1:30 AM.
You shake your head and go for a walk to see if anyone else is suffering, because that’s hopeful.
Then a sick thought hits you:
Where’s my wallet?
Where’s my fuckin’ wallet?!
You tear through the house like the Tasmanian Devil, ruining the cleaning you did two days ago.
Eventually, it hits you.
Your wallet is at that damn coffee shop.
You sprint to the one spot with reception and freeze all your cards.
Your phone dies mid-freeze.
Ten minutes later, you find your wallet in a place you have never once put it.
Fitting.
Hour 11
After some hemming and hawing (and a little reading), you and your spouse come up with a plan:
Go see a midnight movie.
It’s genius.
You’ll leave the theater, the lights will be back on, and your cat will forgive you forever.
But when you arrive at the theater, you’re immediately reminded why you stopped going.
$60.00 for two people to see a movie and eat snacks.
It almost makes the lack of power seem appetizing.
Feeling super low, you order a movie theater hot dog and tell the person in front of you, “I’ll probably regret this.”
Hour 13
The movie was a C+. Maybe a B- if you squint.
Worth seeing? Sure.
Worth $60?
Not unless the power magically turns on during the credits.
Which doesn’t happen.
Instead, the power company announces:
12 more hours.
12 more fuckin’ hours.
You go home.
Lie in bed.
And stare into a fan that no longer spins, in pitch-black dark.
Hour 18
After five hours of no sleep, you drag yourself back to that cursed coffee shop.
Your credit card doesn’t work because you froze it, and now you can’t unfreeze it until your dead phone charges.
But you have the laptop.
And there’s Wi-Fi.
Sweet, sweet Wi-Fi.
You’re a part of the world again.
You start Googling the outage. Scanning headlines. Trying to get to the bottom of it.
And to your surprise, the frustration caught wind.
Someone posted a New Yorker-style cartoon of a lineman on a pole.
The caption: “Hey Bob, pass me the duct tape.”
You half-smile and comment, “I think you meant bubble gum.”
It gets 8 likes.
Hour 19
Time to unfreeze the card.
The coffee shop Wi-Fi is a war zone, so you head to the bank to do it in person.
There are two tellers—a man and a woman. Both way too chipper to be working on a Saturday morning.
The man overhears you venting and asks,
“You in Lakewood?”
“Yeah…”
“I used to live there. Power went out whenever the wind blew.”
He meant it as a comforting comment.
It was not.
But he plants a seed:
“Talk to your city councilman.”
And the seed cracks open.
Hour 20
By now, the idea has taken root.
By now, the idea has taken root.
You picture yourself at a city council meeting, giving public forums a run for their money.
You imagine talking about taxes, then segueing to how the outage is unacceptable.
You imagine calling the power company incompetent and even think about calling someone a bitch.
Then you’d storm out and announce your candidacy for council.
Because you—the person who didn’t care about local politics five minutes ago—are suddenly the only sane option.
What a joy to dream.
Hour 22
You relented, boredom has won.
and started to do yard work.
That’s when you see your neighbor walking her dog.
“Still no power?” you ask.
She slows down, hand on hip, like she’s about to deliver a monologue.
“Oh yeah. YEAH.”
You lock eyes like old soldiers at a war memorial.
“They said it’ll come on at 1.”
“I heard they changed it to 1:30.”
“Well, they’ve changed the time all day. I don’t know if I can believe them.”
You nod.
“…But this time it’s only 30 minutes.”
She smiles.
“Yeah. That’s true… I’m gonna hold on to that.”
It makes you feel good.
Hour 23
You are so thoroughly bored that you start to clean.
Not normal cleaning.
Post-apocalyptic, “HGTV meets mental breakdown” cleaning.
You scrub baseboards you didn’t know existed.
You find a spoon behind the fridge. You don’t remember owning that spoon.
You start to like the quiet.
You consider giving up electricity.
You admire the Amish and remember you have four devices at 12% or less.
The thought comforts you.
Hour 24
And then, all at once:
A flicker.
A hum.
A light.
And life returns.
You smile, relieved, and grasp your phone like it’s an old friend.
Then your stomach growls.
And remember the hot dog.
And you, in fact, regretted ordering it.
Welcome to my weekend, please, like comment, share and tell me what you think!
Funny how our minds turn to something that runs on electricity like a copier or a printer or even television because we focus on the lights not everything else that also runs on electricity.
So true! The fridge comes to mind
I so relate! We didn’t have power for almost 2 weeks after Hurricane Florence. Lost food in the fridge, one was a bag of fish!! I resorted to wearing only what covers important parts, and was in bed with all the windows open in sticky humidity by 8:30pm. Lights came on a block away 4 days before ours! But one was a restaurant and real food was so good. We ended up spending $11,000 on a whole house generator before the next year. Never again. 🤣
BTW, that was 6 years ago. Haven’t needed it…YET.
You may have just convinced me to buy a generator, better to have and not need than need and not have
After Hurricane Michael I didn’t have power or internet for almost two weeks, plus the cell phone towers were overwhelmed and signals were spotty. Definitely reminded me to be thankful for electricity. And that I had a stack of books to read.
Oh I’m so sorry you had to deal with that – I couldn’t imagine!
Now you are one indeed. While I’ve not had to use it (yet) I got a generator after the derecho (inland hurricane, nobody told me that existed!) here in the great state of Iowa. It at least can keep the refrigerator going for a few days. I thought about a bank of solar batteries too but in any situation where I would really need them all that does it make me a soft target for the people whose survival strategy is “I have a gun”.
I’ve just stopped laughing. We’ve had power outages, but never one that long, and it usually comes back before the time they say it will. I knew people who had a cut for a whole week, some years ago. They’d just filled the dishwasher and were going to turn it on. Instead they left it closed, and borrowed oil lamps from me and other friends. They left the dishwasher closed for the week, then turned it on a long, high-temperature wash before they put it on. They didn’t open it first in case the dishes walked out. Sorry you had such a bad time, but hope you’re over it now. :
I lived in hurricane 🌀 zones in North Carolina and Virginia. There you need a generator because the power could be lost for weeks. I remember looking out after the storm passed to see nothing but water and no power lines no poles and no power until they were rebuilt. A nice generator and plenty of gas because once the storm hits there is no leaving to get anything. Not until the water has receded and all the debris is cleared away.
Now I live in Raleigh NC and the hurricanes are not the threat that they are on the coast.
OH YEAH!!! Been there and done that, but thankfully (touch wood) not for several years! Ours was out once for almost an entire week! My Kindle died the first day … no problem, my house is filled with hundreds, maybe thousands of books. I can read … until the sun goes down, that is! Hopefully never again … touch wood!
Touching wood!!
Good job, Tony!!!
Excellent. I think my panic at the situation would spiral out of control. Any hint of Internet outage terrifies me.
Your post brought back memories – not so good ones – Ha! You may enjoy this tale of woe…
https://jodileasplace.blog/2017/01/25/dear-power-company/
I look forward to reading more of your observations 🙂
The message not being delivered because no power kills me, this is great
Priceless. You had me howling out loud at the frozen credit card…
This made my day thank you!!
Very funny, Tony.