So we thought today was the big day to get power at the new shop. Power. To use tools. To make repairs. From the hurricane. That hit a year ago.
I thought it seemed just too easy when I set up the service connection with Centerpoint Energy last week and all they asked was if we'd had our inspection, which we had... "We'll get you set up on Wednesday then, Mrs. Culpepper". Silly me for believing her.
I had done all the research. I learned more about per-kilowatt-hour rates than any human should have to know. We were ready. We had a licensed electrician (good things to say about GalTex electricians, by the way) do the good deed and pulled all the permits we needed. Then came the call.
"Hello Mrs. Culpepper this is Debbie with Centerpoint Energy. Our technician was going to connect your service this morning but we don't have your permit from the City yet..." Um... Okay... Now I KNOW the City inspector came out to inspect the new panel at the shop last week - I watched him shake Michael's hand, walk inside the building, walk back outside the building, get into his "City of Galveston" white truck and drive away. With my own peepers, and last time I checked they were still peeping clearly. So I KNOW I'm not crazy - at least not this time.
Long story short, the City inspector didn't send Centerpoint the "okay" to turn on our power because we have to get a Certificate of Occupancy. No problem - it's just another form to fill out, another fee to pay, and we'll be right back on track right? WRONG. (I find it difficult to convey my dripping frustration and distain here, so I'd like to just stop for a moment in my seething anger to pull my hair like that crazy lady on the billboard you see coming off the Causeway onto the Island.) Turns out the wacky, &*^$*&^ thing about a C-of-O is that you MUST have power at the property to get one. AND, stay with me here, you cannot get power at a property without a C-of-O.
So, if anyone could help me figure out how the freaking hen got permission to lay her egg in the henhouse when the fee to lay one's egg in the henhouse is a prepaid egg, I'd forever be obliged.
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