Cold Comfort

Working the phones at Philly's Energy Coordinating Agency

by Bruce Schimmel

I'm feeling chilly, and the cold is seeping through the basement walls of the old Victorian mansion at 19th and Arch. A former mortuary, it's now a call center; and though it's currently mostly empty, it smells of people and pizza. It's after hours at the Energy Coordinating Agency, and I'm sampling some of that day's unanswered calls.

As a nonprofit service agency, ECA delivered some sort of emergency energy aid to about 36,760 Philadelphians last year. This year, how many they'll help is anyone's guess.

Cathy, the shift coordinator, in the Energy Coordinating Agency's CRISIS call center. (CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION

Beep. I take down names, addresses, Social Security Numbers, plus reasons for their calls. A broken furnace, gas off, electric cut. Some need kerosene for portable heaters, their only heat source. One 83-year-old lady from North Philly needs another ton of coal.

In January, ECA got slammed with requests, and the pace is quickening. The fed and state are expanding all kinds of aid — in the form of fuel vouchers, repair and insulation. Eligibility is rising and is now reaching well into the middle class.

The cutoff for a fuel grant is now 60 percent of the state's median income. A single person making less than $23,110 qualifies, as does a family of four earning less than $44,443.

Rules are changing so fast that ECA's annual handbook has updates stapled into it. In January, ECA asked for volunteers for their Crisis Center hotline, and I showed up.

With its current staff of about 100 and a budget of nearly $10 million, the ECA is in growth mode. They advertised recently for inspector and installer positions for home insulation programs that are expected to burgeon as money from Washington arrives.

But people are cold right now, and during the day the ringing is almost nonstop. People are running out of time. After the winter shut-off moratorium ends on March 1, utilities can cut them off.

And thanks to Ed Rendell and Dwight Evans, advocates tell me, it's easier than ever to lose your service and lose it for good. In recent years, Pennsylvania passed a passel of pro-industry goodies — like allowing Friday night shut-offs.

On the phone, some beg and plead. Many are older and most are women.

Others are outraged. Despite my best attempts to be polite, one woman wanting kerosene started yelling at me. I handed the phone to Cathy, an ECA shift coordinator.

Cathy is tiny but wiry. She sprints about in a blue beanie, black corduroy jacket, with a bright orange hoodie underneath. On the phone, she's conciliatory, "They're working on it," she purrs to the woman. Failing with that, she snaps, "Don't blame him. He's a new volunteer."

Volunteers in ECA's Crisis call center. (CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)

Off the phone, Cathy comforts herself. "I need to clear my head," she says, pulling on yet another coat. "These customers are ball-busters," she declares, heading out for air.

Meanwhile, the room is in an uproar: "You don't know if it's your name or your aunt's?" "Are you LIHEAP [Low Income Home Energy Assistance Program] approved?" "No, they couldn't deliver the oil because your fuel tank is cracked."

Across the table are two other volunteers: a tall, handsome white boy, a recent Quaker school graduate, and a matronly lady from Nicetown. Their civility on the phone is unflappable. Between calls, they shut their eyes.

At about four, the ringing hits a lull. Lorraine, the Crisis Center manager, tilts in her swivel chair, and sighs, "Ah, that's peaceful."

A moment later, predictably, the phones erupt. "Somebody help me," Lorraine laments to no one in particular. Picking up the phone, she asks politely, "How I can help you?"

(bruce@schimmel.com)

For information on volunteering, call Jerry at 215-609-1044 or Lorraine at 215-609-1070.