The electric cooperative owned by you and your neighbors
powers many of the necessities, and conveniences, of your family’s daily
EEEEkkk! EEEEkkk! EEEEkkk! A groggy head flops on the
pillow as a practiced hand snaps down on the alarm clock, stopping the
air-raid siren after only three quick warnings that 6 o’clock has arrived.
Groan. Get up. The man squints as he removes his electric razor from the
recharging stand while his wife takes a steamy shower.
There’s a rich, warming smell in the air. The man smiles.
Aaahh. He remembered to plug in the coffeemaker last night.
He’s still groggy, though, operating on instinct. But
suddenly his mind wakes up. With a start.
his wife calls from the shower. “Did you get the clothes out of the dryer
last night like I asked you to?”
Oops. He mumbles something then sprints down the stairs,
quickly grabbing an armful of clothes from the dryer, plugging in the iron
and setting up the ironing board.
Next, he slides four wedges of the fancy artisanal bread
his wife bought last night into the aerodynamic, gleaming chrome toaster
they were given as a house-warming present. Then he punches the button on
the plug-in intercom.
In a tired routine that hasn’t worked — or amused them —
in years, he shouts, “Kids, this is the voice of God. Wake up!”
The man then hustles over and irons his wife’s uniform,
far more neatly and thoroughly than he does his work shirt, which he
hurriedly swipes a couple of times.
Uh-oh. A sound buying him time suddenly disappears. The
shower water upstairs has cut off. At this inopportune instant, the cat
jumps onto the ironing board, arching its back, while the dog whines at his
feet, both craving attention. “Sorry, guys, gotta run,” he says.
Hurriedly, he packs up the ironing board and sprints
upstairs, hanging up his wife’s uniform at the exact instant she emerges
from the bathroom. She finds her uniform, and smiles at him sweetly. “I
thought you had forgotten,” she says. “No way!” he replies, turning away
just in time to hide the ruddy glow that burns his face whenever he brags
about his bowling scores or his high school athletic exploits.
The four family members then converge on the kitchen. The
kids wrestle for the flat-screen TV remote. She snatches it from them. “No
time for that,” she says firmly.
Then, with the practiced precision of stage actors in a
French farce, the four family members open and close the refrigerator, grab
the toasted wedges of bread and adroitly slather them with jelly, pack their
lunches, check the news online, and unplug their smartphones nesting in
chargers, never stopping to sit down, pausing only to exchange quick kisses
as the kids head off to the bus stop, while the man and woman set the
security system for the day, grab their tablets and head to the garage.
They climb into separate cars, the woman slightly quicker
than her husband. She pushes her remote control garage-door opener a second
before he does, with his attempt stopping the door’s ascent a mere yard
above the concrete floor. He groans. She laughs, pushes it again, and the
massive door obeys, whirring upward, pulling back the curtain on another
And so it goes, all day, every day, as your electric
service stays quietly in the background all morning, during the afternoon
and evening, and through the night, too, powering the alarm clock, the
razor, the water heater, the heating and cooling system, the intercom, the
dryer, the iron, the toaster and coffeemaker, the refrigerator, the garage
door opener, the security system, the TV, the smartphone, the tablet.
Any electric utility can provide you with electricity.
Only one can provide you with both reliable, affordable electricity, and the
power to have a say-so in the business of your utility. That kind of power
comes from an electric cooperative, owned by you and your neighbors. And
serving you and your family all day, every day.