Sometimes I wonder if Hubby and I are being secretly videotaped for someone’s sick amusement while they punk us over and over. Fortunately nothing catastrophic has happened yet, but we feel like poster children for Murphy’s Law.
Here’s the latest:
When Hubby researched the process for bringing electricity to our building site, it seemed fairly simple: Get a homeowner’s permit, put in a power pole with a breaker box and meter, and get an electrical inspection.
Instead, it’s been an exchange worthy of Abbott & Costello’s “Who’s On First” (although not quite as amusing to us):
Hubby: *double-checking with the electrical inspector* “So, I can put in a pole and breaker box…”
Inspector: “No.”
Hubby: “But that’s what the National Electrical Code says.”
Inspector: “This is BC. That’s not acceptable here.”
Hubby: “Ooookay.” *spends a week researching alternatives, then calls back with questions and ends up talking to a different inspector*
Inspector #2: “…well, yeah, you could do those alternatives, but why don’t you just put in a pole? It’s cheaper.”
Hubby: “Because Inspector #1 told me I couldn’t.”
Inspector #2: “Oh, no, he’s wrong. All you need is a Class 6 pole with a guy wire. You can get that at Windsor Plywood.”
Hubby: *calling Windsor Plywood in foolish hope* “Do you sell Class 6 poles?”
WP: “No, we only have Class 5 poles.”
Hubby: “The inspector said I needed a Class 6 pole. Any idea where I can get one?”
WP: “No.”
Hubby: “Do you sell the guy-wire kit?”
WP: “No.”
Hubby: *spends days calling around before giving up and phoning an electrical contractor* “How much would you charge to supply and install a Class 6 pole and guy wires?”
Contractor: “We only install Class 5 poles, and they don’t need guy wires.”
Hubby: *calling Inspector #2* “Can I use a Class 5 pole without guy wires?”
Inspector #2: “Sure, that’s better than a Class 6.”
Hubby: *facepalm*
Hubby: *calling electrical supply store* “Hi, do you sell retail to the public?”
Store: “Sure.”
Hubby: *walks into store* “Hi, I’d like to buy a breaker box…”
Store owner: “We don’t sell to the public.”
Hubby: “But I called your head office and they said…”
Owner: “I don’t care what they said, I won’t sell to you. I have to protect my contractors.”
Hubby: *walks out muttering and calls the head office* “You said you’d sell to the public, but the guy in the Parksville store refuses to sell to me.”
Store: “Oh. Hold on…” *returns to the line* “Yes, sorry; each store makes their own policy decisions.”
Hubby, speaking slowly and evenly: “Do… you… have… a… store… that… will… sell… to… me?”
Store: “I think the Courtenay store (an hour and a half in the opposite direction) will. Here’s their number…
Hubby: *calling the Courtenay store* “Do you sell retail to the public?”
Courtenay: “Sure.”
Hubby hasn’t gone up there yet, but he’s braced to walk into the store and discover that:
- the guy he was talking to just got fired; and/or
- they changed their policy two days ago and now they don’t sell to the public; and/or
- the store sells to everybody except ex-Albertans who look like him; and/or
- they gave him the wrong number and he was in fact talking to the store in Victoria (3.5 hours in the opposite direction to Courtenay).
I’m waiting for the next chapter in the saga, but meanwhile… Who’s on first?
Author Diane Henders 