Just Another Day at Phonathon

Friday, August 28: An exciting start of the year for Phonathon.

For those of you unfamiliar with our program, Phonathon is located in the basement of Old Dominion Hall.  The entrance to Phonathon is at the bottom of an outside stairway which has been dug into the ground.  This comes with several perks - hearing people folding their laundry in the room next door, frigid temperatures year-round (remember, heat rises), and my favorite: the occasional friendly flood.

Here's the scene.  My co-supervisor, Kelly, and I are running a small Friday night shift.  Since there are only a few callers, we are all congregated at the computers on one side of the calling room - the side away from the door.  We note with bemusement that it has begun to rain cats and dogs... make that tigers and wolves.  While the callers and I bemoan the misery of walking home in the rain, Kelly goes off to the office to make a phone interview.  A few minutes later, she comes back out, calling for me in panic.

It turns out that water is rushing under the door.  Rushing.  In torrents.  Like Winnie the Pooh with thousands of dollars of sensitive electronic equipment. 

Kelly and I spring into action.  First we unplug everything near aquatic ground zero.  Then I run outside (there's another exit which is less prone to flooding on the southwest side) and around the building to the Phonathon entrance while Kelly tells the callers what to do.  Directly outside the door are more than six inches of water, waiting to rush into the room.  Luckily, there are sandbags, so I shove them against the door.  This slows (but doesn't stop) the mayhem.  Unfortunately, water is still running down the stairway.  The sandbags belong at the top of the stairs, but we can't move them until the six inches of standing water are dealt with.

By the time I come back into Phonathon, looking like I just survived being thrown overboard, the shift is over.  Kelly and I loot the kitchenette and come across a popcorn bowl and a small Tupperware container.  We then go outside to the entrance and begin bailing it out like a sinking ship.  The water level eventually recedes to a manageable level, and we move the sandbags (over fifty pounds, soaking wet) up to the top of the stairs.  Then we can finally close down the shift and go home.

No thanks necessary, ma'am.  Just another working day at the Phonathon.  Who know what will happen next?