Indignation

    I showed up early, as I always do.
    The location was a hotel in downtown Boston. My assignment was a portrait session with two magicians (seen above). They were in town for a show. A newspaper reporter accompanied me.
    A room was chosen. I set up equipment—light stands, umbrellas, flash heads, and a powerpack.
    So far so good.
    Next, I’d perform a lighting check. That would require me to plug a power chord into a wall socket.
    An employee of the hotel told me to wait. There was a safety concern.
    Huh? I inspected the socket. It looked fine.
    The employee said that he’d summon the house electrician. That person, not me, would plug in the chord. The whole thing seemed ridiculous. But okay, bring in the electrician.
    Silliness gave way to seriousness. I was told the electrician would charge me a fee.
    I expressed outrage. It was absurd to pay someone for such a routine task.
    The employee said the policy was a union rule.
    Safety had nothing to do with it. The policy was a shakedown for money.
    The electrician arrived. I refused to cooperate. I told him I’d take the portraits without artificial lighting, even if it meant the quality wouldn’t be as good. I also conveyed my disgust.
    The electrician backed down. He told me to go ahead and plug in the chord.
    I’m not sure why he relented. Was he afraid the reporter would publish an account of the situation? Was he uncomfortable after being the object of derision? Or had he been trying to scam me and didn’t want his bosses to know?
    I’m glad I stood my ground. Righteous indignation, whether it succeeds or fails, strengthens one’s character.