I don’t speak boiler.

16 Jan
My week at church has been chilly.  And it’s only Wednesday.
It all began on Sunday.  As I prepared for worship [after hurting my back by walking], I noticed the sanctuary felt chilly.  Fifty-nine degrees chilly.  I fiddled with the thermostat and found everything as it should be except for the fact that there was no heat.  I happily turned the problem over to the men who called the other men to come in vans and shine flashlights in the boiler room.  The thermostat began to go up just as everyone was leaving church for the day.  If it is cold again tomorrow, treasurer Bob told me, just call the heating&cooling guys.  Okay, Bob.
I wasn’t in the office much Monday morning because, well, I slept until 8 and took the morning slow.  [I hurt my back by walking.  Remember?  And I knew I’d be at church thru at least 9 that night.]  I went to the Austin High School to have lunch with Mary, a member, who heads up the nutrition/foodstuff for the Austin district.  She works with fun people; it was fun.  I got back to the office and watched the thermostat in my office slowly decline.  66 … 65 … 64 … 63.  I called the heating&cooling guys.
Guy: So, uh, what’s wrong?
Me: There is no heat.  I’ve watched the temperature go down since I’ve been here.
Guy: No heat, huh?  Have you been in the boiler room?
What I wanted to say: What the hell would I do in the boiler room?
What I actually said: No.  Bob just told me to call you.
Guy came.  Guy called other people.  Guy said he thought he found the problem and he’d be back Tuesday.  Fast-forward.  Guy had been at church for many hours yesterday, finally gets ready to leave, and stops in my [freezing] office to give me the scoop.
Guy: No heat for at least two days … need new parts … I’ve been on the phone forever with warehouses and distributers … burners … cats … you’d better get some space heaters … good luck.  [paraphrased.  and maybe nothing about cats.]
I just nodded, pretending to understand at least one tiny bit of what he said.  I understood enough to call a trustee who then called another trustee who together brought industrial diesel heaters [the kind you use in barns] and space heaters.  They will stop by periodically to turn them on so water doesn’t freeze and walls don’t split and hell doesn’t freeze over.  [Did I just say my church is hell?  Not true.]
God bless the farmer trustees.
They speak boiler.  I do not.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: