The Great (electrical) Delay

Dangerous live wires, property devastation, widespread panic and general discomfort as people plow through one another at your local Walmart's, Target's and Stop and Shops; reacting to the news providers information hours after a Nor'easter, to "make sure you have plenty of water and perishable items. This one's gonna be a doozy".

What CL and P offered was the same tired scenario that a father preparing to leave his family says to his youngest boy, "It'll be OK, everything will be fine". Thank you, Northeast Utilities, United Illuminating, General Electric, what have you, for providing our state with yet another empty promise. We all feel let down and electrically abandoned.

800,000 households, (not even people), statewide without power for more than a week, including businesses, schools, and every traffic light from the 203 to the 860. I get it, guys, you didn't get compensated properly for the "tropical storm", which was a nice way of saying heavy rains and a little wind, but don't you have families to go home to? Or at least your Irish setter? What will you do when you can't crack open a can of Budweiser and watch the Giants lose after a long day of tree cutting? Where in the world is your sense of unity and hospitality?

And on the fifth day, God made the Home Depot and Loewes who provide the good state of Connecticut with generators, pricing anywhere from $800-1000, only to be sold out instantly after the hype of Irene. You know what my community had to do for nine grueling days? Live out of our cars, the diner, and the New York Sports Club, until they started charging $15 dollars a day to use their luke warm community showers.

Next time something so severe decides to grace us with its temperate presence; make sure you have a staff in front, and behind you that has a stronger work ethic. I know, no one wants to work for free in an ever dwindling economy, but if it helps, think about what YOU or your coworkers have to go home to. Maybe it's a generator and a loving family awaiting your arrival, but more often than not, its a cold lonely one bedroom apartment, in South Meriden, with a dog that's so freaked out by the darkness, and a refrigerator full of rotten hungry man dinners. If you can't do it for you, do it for the guy in lime green working beside you.