When the hero makes a windfall*

CWLP workers were hailed as heroes at this year’s St. Patrick’s Day Parade. Their tireless work in returning power and safety to a city knocked-out by tornadoes earned them the cheers of adults and the adoration of children who rushed into the street to scavenge the candy that they threw. I believe they were throwing Tootsie Rolls, although they could have easily afforded to toss Godivas.

Like many, I was surprised to learn just how well the city’s public works employees were compensated for their heroics. According to a report in the SJ-R, some received an entire week’s pay for every day they worked, during a period that stretched out over eight to ten days. Not too shabby. Now that our power has returned, I can safely ask: In your estimation, does news of this bountiful payday diminish the valiance of their efforts?

I’m not naive to the ways of the union contract. They quite perfunctorily stipulate that should their members be asked to perform beyond the boundaries of their daily routine, the employer will pay and pay big. That’s why when I see a maintenance crew repairing a water main break in the evening hours, I don’t feel sympathy because they are missing the new episode of 24, I calculate that they’ll probably be able to buy a new flat screen television with all the overtime they are raking in. And I imagine that they don’t want my condolences anyway, as long as their paycheck shows the proper respects.

Of course the post-tornado labors were a whole different ballgame. People’s livelihood and well-being were dependent on the linemen** and street crews expeditiously restoring service and normalcy to the community. Some of these workers were probably pushed to the brink of physical and mental exhaustion. Yet every indication is that they were unflagging in their efforts.

Early on during the relief efforts, a city worker was interviewed on the radio. Perhaps sensitive to the perception that he was profiting handsomely from the malady, he made a point of saying that he would be out there doing what he was doing even if they weren’t paying him. I don’t doubt him, but I’m not ready to assign his noble sentiments to everybody who was working on the city’s double dime. Not even the laziest employee would call in sick or knock off early what with all that extra cash being dangled before them.

It seems to me that greatly exceeding expectations is a prerequisite of heroism. So if you accept a job as an electrical lineman, where does duty end and valor begin? And does it matter whether it is altruism that inspires you to go above and beyond the call of duty, or something more materialistic?

By asking these questions I’m deferring from making a strong stand on this issue. It is the privilege of the blogger to raise such matters and then leave it to the anonymous commenters to make the rash pronouncements. I don’t want to be the one to rain on CWLP’s parade.

But if I must take a stance, I will do so while straddling both sides. As a taxpayer, I do find the overtime wages excessive. As someone who doesn’t like to be rousted out of bed and sent outdoors, mid-catastrophe, to handle high voltage power lines, I don’t begrudge them their hazard pay.

Are they heroes? That’s a question best answered by someone not concerned with their electricity being mysteriously turned off should a printout of this blog post end up tacked upon a bulletin board in a CWLP break room.

*Title inspired by a minor hit from the Bangles

**I have friends who are linemen for the city, and they drive the mainroad, lookin’ in the sun for another overload. But they don’t, as the song suggests, seem to be particularly susceptible to lovelornness.