“really you can do that? really?” I repeated over and over to Pushkaran (our superintendent) over the phone. “I know I paid it - they just can’t come and turn it off.”

 

A few minutes later, I was home and giving Atticus his nebulizer (it was only two days since being home) when the electric man and his muse showed up at my door. When Teresa answered the door (and I am not making this up), he pushed the door and tried to walk in. Teresa held the door and told him to wait. He looked at her and made another move to push past her. Pushkaran had warned me that they like to make trouble. Teresa shut the door and told me that he wants to cut off the power. Where is the bill, the receipt? We looked everywhere. In the back of my mind, I wasn’t worried. I mean were the really going to turn off my power - if I really hadn’t paid it, it was only a couple of days late.

 

No receipt but Pushkaran turned up and talked him into coming back the next day. He then instructed me to pay the bill, get a receipt, keep the receipt, and give the receipt and 50 rupees to the guy tomorrow for waiting.

 

The next day comes. He arrives and I give him the receipt and 100 rupees because I have no change. And the deed is done.

 

Until the next day, at the orphanage (where I teach preschool) when Shiva finds me to tell me that someone came and cut my electricity. We rush back home and find out that news doesn’t travel fast and someone else was sent to turn off the power. He cut the wire. The watchman was the scapegoat and got yelled at for letting the man in. First by me and then by Shiva. In the middle of my yelling, he looked up and said “I no speak english madam.”

 

In the end, this story is not so much about my electricity being cut off or about the flakiness of bribing. Instead, it is about how Jenn became a yelling person. A person who basically screams at a really kind, humble immigrant from Nepal. A person who loses it, makes mini adult tantrum sounds, and forgets the luxury in which she lives.

 

An hour after the electricity was finally put back on, things got crazy again. The pest control guy came and the blinds guys came. We had to find a ladder and I had to communicate to the pest control guy about where the giant ants are coming from that are all over my living room and the kids play area. “Outside only?” “No - they crawl o us when we sit on the couch.” “spray bathroom?” “Sure, but also this room.” “Outside and bathroom.” And on it went until we were on the same page.  meanwhile, Berkeley wanted to be involved with the giant ladder search in the neighborhood and the pest control action. Expecting to receive cash and me not knowing a ball park figure for the amount, the pest control guy and I had a staring contest over my inability to produce 50 rupees. The total bill was 3150. And I only had 3100. After a few minutes, I forfeited by blinking and telling him to call his office (he was refusing to leave). While on the phone, Teresa asked Shiva for 50 rupees and gave them to me. At this point, I grabbed the phone from pest control guy, hung it up, and put the money in his hands. As he walked out the door, I realized he had not sprayed the living room and for another month I would live with big ants.

 

The next day, I apologized to the watchman through translation from Shiva. At first he didn’t appear to understand and Shiva raised his voice. I started laughing because Bakhtin was right - we can never really understand each other. But I asked Shiva again to tell him I was sorry for yelling yesterday. I think it was embarassing for him but at some point, he looked up and now we can say hello again. But it would have been better had I not done that in the first place.

 

It is uncomfortable to write this - to be honest. But perhaps we all forget that while apologies are always an option, they are rarely as good as never doing the thing. I am now aiming for not doing the thing.