Before Service Call Centers, there was just us. 

Hopefully, the storm this week didn’t cause any disruption to your electricity, cable, or telephone services. That is so frightening and frustrating. But, these problems are rare these days because of better equipment, underground wiring, etc., except in the most extreme conditions. 

And when they do happen, there are central answering service centers you can call to report an outage, leave voice mail, or if you are lucky, talk to a professional who will report your situation. You immediately breathe easier despite your inconvenience. 

Let me tell you how it used to be when my late father, Earl Deare Sr., was the local manager for CLECO, which supplied electricity to Jeanerette. His office serviced the area from Baldwin, to Lydia, and outlying areas. The after-hours phone number listed in the Jeanerette phone book was our home phone. 

When clouds loomed heavily above, and the crackle of lightening lit up the sky, our phone would start to ring. After getting a sense of the extent of the outage, Daddy would call out his service men, Joe Guillotte, Amos Landry, and Able Trimble. Red Rosemond, Freddy Migues, and others were added to the crew in later years. Then Daddy would quickly leave to supervise the problem. 

As phone calls continued to come in with increased frequency and panic, it was my sisters, Gaynell, Mary Dean, and I who took the calls because our mother was crippled with arthritis, and her hands couldn’t comfortably hold a receiver. Here’s how I remember answering those calls. 

“The Deare residence. No, Mr. Deare isn’t here. He’s out on a trouble call.” Sometimes this was shortened to simply, “… on trouble.” 

Then the caller would begin a report, starting calmly, then sometimes dissolving into tears and even anger. We wrote down every detail. 

“My lights are out in Charenton. It’s on Mr. Allain’s place, not far from where the sugar mill used to be … Mr. Deare knows.” 

“My toilet won’t flush without the electric pump, and it’s been twelve hours!” 

“I know Hurricane Audrey passed by here, but that was yesterday. I got to have my tv to watch the ballgame tonight!” 

“Tell Mr. Deare I’m gonna shoot him the next time I see him! My commercial freezer is starting to thaw!” 

With pencil in hand and sitting at a small table in the hall, lit by only a candle or a flashlight, we girls would take these calls at all hours of the day and night, spelling one another in the wee small hours. 

“Yes, M’am. I will give him the message when he checks in with us later,” we’d offer in our best schoolgirl voice, trying to sound professional. But they knew. I wonder what the caller thought about our reliability. 

When the calls became less frequent, we knew Daddy and his crew of strong and brave servicemen had accomplished the task of changing a transformer in the dark of night on top of a tall electrical pole in the middle of a lightning storm with high winds whipping all around. 

When the task was done, they would go home, wet and weary, to wait until the next storm when they’d be rested and ready. 

And so would we.

JULAINE DEARE SCHEXNAYDERis retired after a varied career in teaching and public relations. Her email address is julaines14@gmail.com.