By Madeline Diehl
From the moment I woke up, I knew it was going to be a bad day. Not because it was a Monday, though that didn’t help. And the cold rain pelting against my windows didn’t help, either. No, I knew that it was guaranteed to be a Very Bad Day because I had slept through my alarm clock and woke up two hours late. I’m in business for myself so normally my boss would have cut me some slack, but on this particular Monday, I was on deadline to write an article and hand it in by 5 p.m.—just seven hours away. I didn’t have a first draft and hadn’t even decided on a topic yet. Sometimes, with the help of adrenaline, I can wing it, but I was sure that I wouldn’t be able to this time.
Why? Because I was writing for a client who expects me to write funny, or at least entertaining, articles. Strangely enough, I find it’s impossible to write funny things when I am depressed, and all the bad things that were happening in the world had started to make me depressed. So, how was I going to write something funny in seven hours when I had no idea where to start? I didn’t feel like I had a funny bone in my whole body.
Procrastination can sometimes serve as a friend to creativity. While I was eating a quick breakfast, I felt the need to know the answer to this question: why is a “funny bone” called that when hitting it causes pain? The answer to that, in fact, suddenly seemed even more important than my deadline. So, I looked it up on Google, and Google said something like:
Sorry! We can’t find that site! Maybe it doesn’t exist anymore, or maybe you’re just plain stupid! Try again in three seconds, two seconds, one second…Ooops! There’s a problem! Try again in nine seconds, eight seconds…
Which of course meant that my modem was out. At that point, my attitude went from bad to worse. I tried searching for the phone number for my service provider, but of course I couldn’t get access to their website. How was I going to find all of the potentially funny details about the funny subject I hadn’t yet discovered?
I can see now that I could have turned things around at this point, if only I had remembered to meditate, which I usually do for 20 minutes before breakfast. When I meditate, everything that happens during the day seems to happen for a reason, and I can easily find my way through seemingly daunting obstacles. But when I don’t meditate, everything seems glass-half-empty, and all the data I collect through the day proves that this assessment is correct. For example, after I started cussing, my cat, who is usually a source of great solace and comfort, hid under the couch and did not venture out again for the rest of the day. “See?” my Bad Attitude said. “How bad is that?”
Luckily, some still-enlightened part of me realized I could call my cable company from my neighbor’s phone. And low and behold, when I stepped outside, I saw a repair truck parked on the street just outside my house. A man wearing a uniform was jotting down notes on a clipboard. “Hi!” I said with something like hope. “So, you must know my modem is down. When do you think it will be back up?”
“I’m just fixing your neighbor’s service right now,” he said. (He didn’t want me to use his real name, so let’s call him Doug.) “Do you have a claim ticket?”
I explained how I couldn’t find a number to call to file a report, so he gave it to me and told me he couldn’t work on my problem unless, and until, I had a claim number. “I just don’t understand why you can’t just fix my service when you’re literally right in front of my house already, probably working on the same problem.”
“Well, it’s not that simple,” Doug said. “You see, I have to go away for about an hour for lunch.”
“Well, I certainly don’t want you to miss your lunch!” I said sarcastically.
Doug instructed me to look over at a nearby tree where a squirrel was chattering and flicking its tail frantically. “That’s why I’m here. That squirrel has chewed up our line.”
I showed my ignorance by asking why it wouldn’t get electrocuted doing that.
“We’re talking about the communication line. Yeah, if she chewed on the electric line, the highest one up, she’d get a big surprise. Nobody knows why, but some squirrels just love to chew on telephone lines. Bell Labs even did a study on it and couldn’t even find the reason—they think it has something to do with the electromagnetic field.”
Doug explained that the squirrel had also built a nest in a hub, a rectangular black box that was attached to the line above, which measured about three feet long and about a foot across. Hubs are the perfect place for a squirrel to build a nest because they’re the same size as a hole in a tree, and there are no predators that can climb up a telephone poll. Most squirrels build at least two nests each season, so they have a back-up if one is put in danger. Whenever he finds a nest in a hub, he just needs to go away for an hour or so and the mother squirrel will do his job for him and move her babies to the back-up nest. When I asked how, Doug said: “Our lines are their sidewalks. Just watch and don’t get too close.”
Hearing about the squirrels helped my Bad Attitude start to slip away—until I tried to reach customer service. With each attempt, I was given the run-around by at least three different “customer service” representatives, and then the line would go dead. By the time Doug got back, I was livid and very close to yelling—okay, maybe I was yelling. Doug sat next to me on my front steps, held out his hand for the phone, and after I gave it to him, he said something like:
“Hello. This is Doug. I work for [company name]. My badge number is xxxxx. I’m here at a customer’s house and I need a work order. Could you give me one, please? (Pause.) I was already at her neighbor’s house at [address] to fix the line and it will only take me a few moments to fix this customer’s, too. (Pause.) No. You don’t understand. I am the repairman. I work for [company name]. My badge number is xxxxxx. I’m already at the customer’s house. (Pause.) Yes, thank you. I’ll put her on the line.”
Watching how calm and respectful Doug was on the phone, I felt horrible that I had allowed myself to become so hostile to the people at the call center who no doubt had little, if any, control over what they said and did. Now, with Doug’s help, I got my work order within minutes. Before starting up the ladder, Doug asked me: “Did the mama squirrel get all her babies out? There were three.”
With a sinking feeling, I realized that I had let myself get so upset on the phone that I had missed the most important part of the day—watching a mother squirrel carry her babies one by one by the scruff of their necks across the street to a safer nest. When Doug climbed the ladder he reported that the nest was empty, and he set about the task of cleaning out the hub.
After Doug left, I felt my heart open up again as I reflected on his compassion toward the squirrels, and the mama squirrel’s noble feat, and Doug’s compassion toward me in helping me navigate the perilous world of “customer service.” I sat down at my desk knowing I now had the topic for my article, and my cat even came out from under the couch and lay across my computer keys to help me, like she always does. Contrary to my first impression, it had been a truly wonderful day, and I knew that, no matter what else was going on in the world, I could welcome more wonders into my life tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. I decided I would let other writers take care of writing about all the bad news—I could just always be on the lookout for everyday miracles.
A NOTE TO READERS: Just as you have probably guessed, or have always known, the “funny bone” is not a bone, it’s a nerve located on the inside of the elbow joint. There is no definitive explanation for how it got its name, but some speculate that it’s because the nerve also runs through the humerus bone in your upper arm. And no, I’m not joking.
