Vickie L. Milazzo, RN, MSN, JD will present the keynote address for the 14th Annual National Nurses in Business Association (NNBA) Conference on September 9, 2003. Click here for details.
FROM THE EDITOR
Are You Prepared for the Blackout?
by Vickie L. Milazzo, RN, MSN, JD
On Thursday, August 14, 2003, my husband Tom and I were in New York City. Playing hooky from the office, we had slipped away for a little sightseeing, a little shopping and a few Broadway plays.
Just after 4:00 pm the store where we were shopping went dark and the Musak died. Like most Americans we're used to temporary power failures, so we continued shopping. Nobody seemed worried, not even the store clerks. Clearly this was only a temporary setback. We experience occasional power outages in my office in Houston and in my home. We knew the power would come back on soon.
It didn't.
Through the store's picture window we saw people coming out of the Port Authority Terminal and gathering in the streets. We couldn't see a light or an illuminated sign anywhere. The salespeople soon herded us down a darkened stairway to the main floor.
Beside her now-useless cash register, one clerk said, "I hear it's only our block."
Another said, "No, it's the entire city – I just talked to my husband."
The Blackout of the Century Begins
With that Tom and I went out into the street to find it filling with people. The traffic lights were out, and a cacophony of horns was building. We crossed 42nd Street and headed toward Broadway. There we knew we'd learn something from the lighted 24-hour news feeds.
We learned something all right, but it wasn't what we expected. The big signs were dark and eerily empty. No news, no NASDAQ, no GAP ads, no time and temperature. Nothing.
After several tries, I reached our office in Houston on my cell phone. I asked one of the employees to pull up CNN.com on the Internet and read me the headlines. She read, "Power Failure Across the Northeast – Detroit, Cleveland and New York City Without Power." As she read parts of the story, it became clear that this incident was much bigger than we knew.
As office buildings and businesses closed and darkened subway stations emptied, Broadway filled with a steady stream of people heading east, west, uptown, downtown, across town. With plenty of daylight left, we headed back to our hotel. The 17-block walk, which usually took 15 minutes, lasted much longer thanks to the clogged streets and sidewalks. I always knew New York was a crowded city. But I was wrong. With everyone from the buildings out on the streets, in addition to the normal traffic, New York was more than crowded – it was jammed.
Heading towards 6th Avenue, we saw people pouring out of theatres, delis and hair salons. It seemed that all of New York City was gearing up for a long walk home, flagging cabs where they could. Quick-thinking individuals boarded buses, correctly assuming that no subways or trains would be running and that an air-conditioned bus ride – no matter how slow – was preferable to a long walk or a long wait in the heat. Some people already brandished cardboard signs with their destinations – "CT," "QUEENS," "FLUSHING," "LONG ISLAND."
Cars with windows down and radios blaring drew instant crowds anxious to hear the news, any news, of what was going on. Almost everyone had a cell phone in hand, hitting redial, redial, redial as their batteries ran down. Cellular phone systems designed to carry traffic for 20% of system subscribers were attempting to deal with traffic in excess of 80%. Those without cell phones or cell phone service formed long lines at pay telephones.
There were a few interesting sights. Here and there a hand clutching a camera rose above the crowd to snap photos of the chaotic yet orderly masses. The steps at St. Patrick's Cathedral teemed with people who chose to wait and see, rather than head home. Saks, Armani, Escada and Starbucks employees, illuminated by emergency lights, stood behind locked glass doors and watched the passing throng, perhaps ordered by management to guard their stores against possible looters.
Our Choice – Minor Inconvenience or Major Catastrophe
Remarkably, no one panicked. September 11, 2001 had prepared New Yorkers for August 14, 2003. Where no police were available, citizens stepped into intersections to direct traffic. Nowhere did I hear a raised voice, an argument or heated words, despite the 94-degree heat of an August afternoon. Once again New Yorkers demonstrated the resilience of the human spirit. They were down, but never out, and they cooperated to make the best of it.
Tom and I eventually arrived back at our hotel, not knowing what to expect. The lobby, beautifully lit by candles, was full of people. The lounge was serving cold food and drinks by candlelight. The elevators functioned and even the door locks worked. Toilets flushed, water ran and enough light streamed through the windows to read until darkness fell. Though our cell phones weren't working reliably, the land lines were still up, and with our phone card we contacted friends and family.
With my laptop, I accessed the Internet to read about the extent of the blackout. We were actually somewhat relieved to learn how extensive the power failure was. We were not alone in the dark – 50 million people shared our fate. The sense of camaraderie was strangely comforting.
In the end we slept in our own room with no lights, and no air conditioning. My personal inconvenience was limited to a hot evening with my husband in a romantically candle-lit hotel room accompanied by a bottle of red wine. The regular electricity (and air conditioning) finally came on at 4:08 am.
The next morning, when I walked past two Times Square hotels and saw guests and staff sleeping on sheets in the streets, I realized how lucky Tom and I had been. A vacation adventure for us was a major discomfort for many New Yorkers. Thursday afternoon, they walked for hours across bridges and highways, down darkening streets to unlit homes and spoiling food. Certainly many New Yorkers slept in their own beds that night, but getting there was an extreme hardship.
The Real Entrepreneurs Emerge from the Darkness
Friday morning there was still no television or radio in our hotel, and land phone lines had failed. From a shaded bench in Central Park we managed to get a cellular signal. Our office staffers were a vital source of news, letting us know that the City was coming back to life and that the mayor had declared a "snow day" asking people to stay home.
The larger stores took the mayor's advice, posting signs such as "Closed Until 12:00," "CLOSED!!!!" and my personal favorite, "Closed Due to Current Events." As power gradually came on during the day, some stores opened while others remained shuttered.
Many delis and other small businesses stayed open with or without power. While their legitimate counterparts took the day off, counterfeit Louis Vuitton, Rolex, Oakley and Prada dealers flourished on the street.
The real entrepreneurs worked overtime, too. Small stores with no power allowed customers in one or two at a time to shop by flashlight. Pizzerias pumped out 10- and 20-pizza orders. Delivery people staggered down the street loaded with stacks of hot pizzas for offices and television crews.
In a still-powerless Times Square I talked with Daryn Kagan, the CNN anchor who interviewed me in Atlanta last year. CNN and the major television networks were all broadcasting live from under the darkened signs. Tourists, natives, press, and police intermingled.
Despite staggering crowds in the streets and airports, despite spoiled food to dispose of and millions of dollars in lost revenues for theaters, restaurants, grocery stores and other businesses, almost everyone seemed optimistic. Throughout the ordeal hospitals, police and firefighters continued working. Hotel staffers voluntarily stayed at their jobs filling in for those who couldn't come to work and replacing their regular hotel uniforms with hotel logo shirts from the gift shop. There was no looting, minimal crime and an intense feeling of community.
Can You Survive in the Dark?
The blackout demonstrated clearly that disaster is what you make of it. Giant department stores and other stores heavily dependent upon employees shut down, while stores owned and run by entrepreneurs stayed open. The family pizzeria where we ate lunch on Friday had one of its best days ever. Everyone was working. The owner probably would have put me to work if I'd asked. Even a staff member's young son was taught to fold together pizza boxes, and other youngsters took turns running deliveries. Just two doors down the street another take-out store was closed for lack of staff. One man's disaster was another's cash cow.
What would be your mind set in a blackout? Are you the pizza parlor owner who cranks out the pies as fast as you can and builds client relationships, knowing that tomorrow your competition will be back? Or are you the employee who, when the lights go out, seizes the opportunity to stay home in the dark? What's your choice – pay day or snow day? An entrepreneur always looks for the opportunity hidden in every inconvenience.
The blackout was also a reminder of how vital human communication is. Although I had come to New York to get away, I found out that while I like to be out of touch, and often do so for as long as three weeks at a time, I don't like to be unable to touch. I need information and connection, with my office, my family and my friends. I also realized how much I rely on instant electronic communication – via the Internet, fax, cable TV and cellular phone – and how unprepared I felt when the electronics failed me. During the blackout I would have sold Tom's soul for a simple transistor radio.
A communication blackout can take place without your realizing it. Ask yourself, "Am I blacked out from my attorney-clients or even from my family?" When was the last time you re-tied the connection, spoke to your attorney-clients about your work product and other services? When was the last time you spent just ten minutes talking with your spouse with no television or other distractions? Blackouts occur in many ways. Don't be responsible for your own blackout.
My hat is off to the people of New York, Detroit, Cleveland and every other city, large and small, who are "Survivors of the Blackout of the Century." Hats off also to the real entrepreneurs who printed up t-shirts with that slogan and started selling them on every street corner the moment the power came back on. Smashing job!
Surviving Just Fine in the Light or Dark,
Vickie L. Milazzo, RN, MSN, JD
