BURKARD'S BLOG

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5 SEP 03: WATER-BLOGGED

A prelude to our topic: One blessing of a blog is the opportunity to offer personal tributes. Today I salute my older brother, Mike - who's turning 54 today. Unlike the Columbus TV station, he is NOT a "Fox-54." He's now a grandfather, after all.

WEDNESDAY, 9:03 p.m.: As I watch the opening tribute to Celia Cruz at the Latin Grammy Awards, I hear a strange noise from my hot water heater. I didn't think I was salsa dancing to the music that hard.

9:10 p.m.: The noise keeps happening - and I suddenly realize the problem. The hot water heater is leaking, only minutes after I stepped out of the shower. The leak apparently is hidden at the bottom so well, I turn off the pilot light -- fearful I might have a manufactured Old Faithful on my hands.

9:15 p.m.: The next task is to figure out how to shut off water to the heater. There's seemingly nothing to turn down below, as there was the last time I seriously handled a water heater at a College Park duplex. Also, the water controls below the kitchen sink are stuck -- and I fear a turn in the wrong direction will leave four flooded apartments, instead of one.

9:20 p.m.: The area below the heater is puddling, and starting to moisten the carpet nearby. Semi-panic sets in - so I try turning on the bathtub faucets, thinking that might divert the leak. It doesn't, and Columbus Water Works makes more money.

9:23 p.m.: I try calling the only man I know well in Columbus who might offer help in shutting off the leak. But one of my co-workers can't offer guidance beyond calling a plumber. Sometimes I wish I had followed the rest of my family into blue-collar work.

9:25 p.m.: I open the phone book and start calling plumbers with "24-hour emergency service." One has an answering machine. Roto-Rooter has an actual night operator, but the plumber who calls back reveals his company doesn't do water heaters. And away go my belongings, down the drain....

9:28 p.m.: Thankfully I bought a long garden hose several years ago, for draining my waterbed. I hook up one end to an attachment at the bottom of the heater, and toss the other end in the bathtub. I should note this is NOT a recommended way of cleaning bathtubs at all.

9:32 p.m.: The pressure is off somewhat - but the leak below the heater goes on, now soaking the bathroom floor and nearby carpeting. I try again to turn the knob atop the heater to the right. Yet as far as I can turn it, it sounds even louder. Lesson #1, which I should have learned watering cars at home when I was young: an open spigot is always loudest just before it shuts up.

9:45 p.m.: A bit of desperate extra turning with help from a cloth starts getting results. The flow through the water hose goes down. The level of water in the bathtub starts dropping. I start thinking I might actually get to work at 10:30 p.m. on time, leaving puddles all night.

I dismiss the thought of calling out from work, because it's simply not feasible. I'm a "temp" at this job, between full-time company hires - and the only other person in the company trained to do the overnight job is a management-level man, who has a second job already. Those of you getting layoff notices at Precision Components should give my bosses a call....

9:50 p.m.: One or two more hard turns, and it sounds like the flow of water through the heater has stopped. Now, however, there's a small bubbling-up of water from the knob itself. I resist the urge to use it as a drinking fountain.

9:55 p.m.: I find a big wrench in a drawer, and use it to stop the bubble-up. I still hear a tiny bit of dripping inside the heater, and see a tiny flow of water through the hose. This will have to do for now. I must prepare for work - and constantly dry my feet with a towel as I do. It's unscheduled practice for a foot-washing service at church.

10:15 p.m.: I fall to my knees before heading out the door. I'm actually thankful in this moment, because at least the water heater leaked when I was at home. If it had happened during the night while I was away, I would have come home to find most of my furniture about two inches higher - due to flooding.

10:35 p.m.: I arrive at work, and questioning begins from co-workers about my leak since I'd called the office for help. To save time on my job and keep it from being an all-night bother, I decide to get up and give a single explanation to everyone within earshot. Truly news conferences can break out at any time.

After I give this group explanation, the second person to ask me about my heater declares: "I don't give a d___ anymore, Richard. I ask you a simple question, and you act like a complete a______ about it!" See Lesson #1.

(This also brings Lesson #2: Some people prefer more personalized service.)

Learning from this (ahem) constructive criticism, I decide not to tell a soul about my leaking heater the rest of the night. For one thing, I might upset more people. For another thing, talking in vagaries about my problem might bring more blog readers.

THURSDAY, 7:50 a.m.: The workshift over, I walk in the apartment and find my prayers answered even more than I expected. There's no further leaking, no further carpet damage - and the bathroom floor actually is almost dry. Sometimes it pays to have an apartment with no central air. The heat and humidity of the bathroom air soaks up more water.

(Well, then again, the two bathroom mats seemed to do the soaking-up. They're so wet it might take weeks for them to dry - in the Iraqi desert.)

8:00 a.m.: I begin a planned hour of mopping - but my mops are old and unworkable. Two of them actually shed their sponges a bit, under the pressure of all the water. Is this a sign fall is almost here?

8:15 a.m.: I get back in the car and drive to Kmart in Phenix City for a new mop. There are refills for mops in the store rack, but none of them match what I have at home. They needed a hole in the middle for screwing in the handle - which should have been a lesson to me about having a screw loose.

9:05 a.m.: The mop bought and back at home trying to soak near-standing water off the carpet, I finally dial my landlord. He keeps "bankers' hours" at his Armour Road office, has no answering machine - and I don't even know his home phone number. This is SO Columbus! It's an approach right out of the 1970's -- "take two buckets, and call me in the morning."

(Lesson #3: Always ask your landlord for a home phone, cell phone, pager number - anything to make him think you're a little bit paranoid, so he'll provide better service.)

9:15 a.m.: The first call to the landlord brought no answer, so I dial again. This time Jerry's in, and I explain my plight. He promises to call a plumber, and have one come out as soon as possible. Since Jerry pays the bill, apparently he has much more clout.

9:20 a.m.: I've been up all night and decide the damage can't get any worse, so I try to get ready for bed. But before I can, the landlord calls back. "How tall is that heater?" he asks - showing how often he visits the complex to check on his customers.

Is the heater "short and stubby," or tall? I tell him it's tall - about four feet high. At least I consider that tall. But then again, I don't play basketball at Auburn.

9:23 a.m.: The landlord calls AGAIN, to report the plumber has been contacted and will be out as soon as possible. In the meantime, he suggests I use towels to soak up the water on the carpet. I think ahead eight days, and my laundry hamper is getting heavier and heavier.

If the landlord is going to call this much, I reason, I'll simply turn off the answering machine and try to sleep while waiting for the plumber to show. But the phone keeps ringing, as people return calls from days ago to book morning TV time for next week. Sometimes it simply does NOT pay to do some of your work from home.

9:55 a.m.: The phone rings again, with a telemarketer calling "LaughLine Enterprises." I explain the web site was sold 11 months ago, but the caller still offers to set up a secure web site for accepting credit card payments. I tell the man to send me information in the mail to consider, but he has to set up appointments on the phone. I declare I won't commit to such things, while only half my brain cells are functioning.

10:45 a.m.: A horn honks outside my back window. The plumber? Nope - a man who gives my next-door neighbor rides all over town, and honks all the time to get her attention. If you're going to take the trouble to roll up to the back door, at least get out and knock on it.

12:45 p.m. (estimated): The phone rings to wake me up once more. This time the Wall Street Journal is looking for subscribers. Yes, I HAVE noticed the new look of your newspaper. No, I'm NOT interested in subscribing right now with a major credit card. Why? Still in a blur, I say:

"Because as I said, the only reason I'm talking with you is because the answering machine is off, because I've been up all night and waiting on the plumber to replace a broken water heater and...."

"I'll try another time." Click. I would go back to Lesson #2 - but this WAS a one-to-one conversation.

3:20 p.m.: I decide to officially get out of bed and start my day. But as I begin to express thankfulness for it on my knees, the phone rings again - this time from Jerry the landlord:

"Did the plumber get it fixed?"

"The plumber hasn't come yet."

"Oh dear. That's not right." He calls the plumber, then calls me back to report the new heater will be out within an hour. Plumbers apparently keep phone and cable installers' hours - 3:00 p.m. until dark.

3:55 p.m.: As I'm in study waiting for the plumber, another telemarketer calls. Advance Business asks, "How are you today?"

"Dreadful, but what do you need?"

"OK, I'll call back another time." The woman hangs up before I can ask her to finish her spiel. But you know what - I may have stumbled onto a way to get some of these people off the phone.

4:20 p.m.: The plumber at last arrives - from Watley Plumbing, according to his T-shirt. There, now it's written down. I know who to call six hours before the trouble happens next time.

4:25 p.m.: The old heater is detached -- but as the plumber tips it over, a little red-colored water leaks onto the carpet from the bottom. That's why I only ran a fan toward the wet carpet during the day, and didn't spread towels. All that work might have been a waste.

4:35 p.m.: A new heater is pushed into the apartment - only it's about a foot taller than the old one. The plumber says my old heater WAS short and stubby after all. Maybe I should pay more attention to those ads about shrinking bones.

It appears I might have to give up one of two shelves located just above the new heater. But by using a variety of tools including a portable gas torch, he's able to make the new heater fit. My items on the lower shelf will only have to lean left a LITTLE bit.

5:02 p.m.: It takes awhile to install a new hot water heater - and as the plumber keeps working, the 5:00 p.m. news tells about a Columbus woman who died from West Nile virus. Beware the signs of West Nile, the reporter says, including "flu-like symptoms." To which the plumber responds toward me: "I could have West Nile all the time, based on that!"

5:15 p.m.: The new hot water heater is in - but the plumber isn't quite finished. "I need to get in the attic," he says. Attic? I actually HAVE an attic?? I show the plumber there are no doors in the closets to get into one. So much for him staging a sit-in, demanding immediate payment.

5:20 p.m.: "You should have hot water again in about 30 minutes," the plumber assures me as he leaves. I thank him for his time -- and pull out a few towels to try to soak up water from the carpet. For some reason, my towels don't work as well as the sponges the Tax Accountability Coalition shows in those commercials against Amendment One.