When I was in middle school, my dad chopped the top of his middle finger off at the knuckle. My dad was an electrical substation worker, in charge of, among other things, heading out in the middle of the night and fixing whatever had made your power go out. (Usually a tree falling in a storm, a substation overheating or, once, an owl flying right into a major power line and exploding.) Dad did this for 30 years and was excellent at it. He got called out so often that the CIPS (Central Illinois Public Service Company) dispatcher and I become phone friends, back when there was a person who had that job, before it became automated.
Volume 2, Issue 10: Don't Drink the Water
Volume 2, Issue 10: Don't Drink the Water
Volume 2, Issue 10: Don't Drink the Water
When I was in middle school, my dad chopped the top of his middle finger off at the knuckle. My dad was an electrical substation worker, in charge of, among other things, heading out in the middle of the night and fixing whatever had made your power go out. (Usually a tree falling in a storm, a substation overheating or, once, an owl flying right into a major power line and exploding.) Dad did this for 30 years and was excellent at it. He got called out so often that the CIPS (Central Illinois Public Service Company) dispatcher and I become phone friends, back when there was a person who had that job, before it became automated.