Tuesday I arrived at work and noticed the building was completely dark. Since electricity was restored at my place and to all of the traffic lights on my way to work, naturally I assumed electricity was restored at the office. I work on the third floor. As I headed to the stairwell, using a cell phone as a flashlight, I noticed even the emergency lights weren't working. I arrive at the third floor and the stifling hot air just sucks the breath right out of me. This was a bad day to wear a 3/4 long sleeve shirt & jeans. The generator is operating one area of the third floor. Ooh lucky me, the generator operates my area! We were officially in code red status and only the code red associates were expected to work. And since you asked, yes I am a code red associate. I'm not a code red associate because I'm brilliant, reliable, solve problems, or know it all; although I am all of these things. I am a code red associate because I live two miles away.
Since I am brilliant, I packed my fan in the car this morning because I knew my area of the building wouldn't have A.C. Last week we experienced a power outage after hours and the A.C. on my side of the building never restarted. I came prepared this time. However, I didn't dress properly. I quickly returned home to change into a breezy t-shirt and shorts, put all of my ice in a small cooler and packed a few drinks and grabbed my flashlight.
The third floor was pretty dark. The ladies restroom was Halloween dark. It didn't take long for someone to place a lantern on the bathroom sink. I also hung my flashlight from the convenient purse hook inside the stall door. The stairwells were the most dangerous. The generators powered the outlets, roughly four per workstation, but that was about it. There was no power in the kitchen. The phone lines didn't work. The stifling hot air was the worst part though. My body pretty much shut down around 3pm. Between the stifling hot air and climbing two flights of stairs all day, I was quite exhausted. But was also thankful that my left was no longer in a cast or a boot and I am able to walk on my own!
I was so relieved to come home to a nicely air conditioned apartment. I sat on the floor and taped care package after care package full of food to send to an army unit in Afghanistan. As I sat there packaging everything, I realized that I have no right to complain. I'm not working in a war zone. I'm not working in a desert. I can come home at the end of eight (or nine) hours and watch T.V. and then sleep in my bed. These soldiers don't have any of these luxuries. Instead, these soldiers are fighting for my freedom to keep these luxuries. What right do I have to complain about a couple of bad weather days?
So, I said all of that to say, THANKS TO ALL OF THE MEN & WOMEN FIGHTING FOR MY FREEDOM. THANKS FOR THE SACRIFICE THAT YOU AND YOUR FAMILY MAKE DAILY.