Slippery Bulbs

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Over the years I have learned how to repair a lot of things on the property after my maintenance crew has gone home: air conditioners, pool equipment, the garage door, etc. Perhaps the one story that sticks out the most, however, had to do with one of the simplest tasks any repairman could hope for: changing a light bulb.

One evening a woman called to tell me that one of the long florescent bulbs in her bathroom was out. I grabbed a spare and walked down to the room. I knocked on the door and headed inside after greeting the woman. The first thing I noticed was the shower is running. I looked quizzically at the woman...who, again, was expecting me to go in there and change a light bulb.

Woman: "Don't worry it's just my kids in the shower, ignore them."

What I should have done, at this point, was tell her I'd be back in 20 minutes. But...this was within the first six months of being at the property, and I didn't think twice (or think at all, really). I opened the door and walked in.

Sure enough, there were two kids absolutely butt naked in the shower playing with their sand toys. The bathroom was also about 100 degrees and the mirror completely fogged up - clearly they had been playing in the shower for a while.

What I should have done, at this point, was tell her I'd be back in 20 minutes. But...I just started pushing things aside on the counter so I could hop up.

I made enough space to work on the counter, but paused as I tried to figure out where to put the spare bulb I brought in while trying to hop up on the counter. I glanced toward the door, where the woman was just leaning against the frame staring at me....offering zero help. For some reason, I decided to take the most awkward way up onto the counter - I continued to hold the bulb in my right hand, I put my left foot on the counter, grabbed the faucet with my left hand, and kind of tried to jump up.

Two things immediately happened. First, I discovered the counter top was just as slick as the fogged up mirror. My left foot slipped forward. The second thing I discovered is that it is fairly difficult to hide the discomfort of smashing your testicles on the edge of the counter.

What I should have done, at this point, was tell her I'd be back in 20 minutes and probably head to the E.R. But...I took a deep breath and tried again, barely making it up on the counter.

Mrs. Mom hadn't moved a muscle since I last glanced over my shoulder, so I proceeded to take off the cover to the light. A new thought entered my head: it is so wet in here with the shower running, what if I get electrocuted trying to take this bulb out and put a new one in?

What I should have done, at this point, was say a prayer. But...I just went for it and reached for the bulb and twist. Or I tried. The outside of the bulb was so wet I couldn't twist it out. I glanced down at the counter looking for a towel...nothing within reach, of course. I decide to untuck and unbutton my work shirt, take it off, and use it to dry the bulb (I had an undershirt, don't worry - because I know you were).

Mrs. Mom hadn't even offered a new facial expression.

I finally change out the bulb and hop down off the counter, making the stunning announcement: "I've changed the bulb and it looks like it works." She says thanks while frowning at the counter. The bottom of my shoes meeting the wet counter had caused an ugly, black mess.

What I should have done, at this point, was grab a towel and clean off the counter. Instead, still holding my unbuttoned shirt, I used that to clean the counter.

By the time I hobbled out of the room, my knees were shaking from the pain in my testicles (and really, it's the whole middle of your body that aches), my work shirt was wet and filthy, and my undershirt was see-through because I had been sweating so profusely. And I was tip-less.

Moral of the story? Bring the following items to change a light bulb: step-stool, towels, a cup for protecting your testicles, a bulb, and an extra undershirt.

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