I Am The Prince Of Darkness
The one who ends your power
The members of my family are very bright people who light up every room they enter. I just wish they’d turn off the lights when they leave.
But they don’t, so the job falls to energy-conscious me. Sure, the deal is less big with the invention of fluorescent and LED bulbs, but hey, a Watt is a Watt. Waste not, want watt not.
I believe I’ve tried everything short of motion sensors. And for most of my tenure as POD (Prince Of Darkness), these devices didn’t exist or were prohibitively expensive. And they often function in a manner contrary to usefulness.
In a conference room, darkness often descends in the middle of a meeting. At most corporate meetings, figurative darkness descends much earlier, but that is not the point. In a residential closet, the finicky sensor refuses to turn on when one enters, but unfailingly blinds one headed to the bathroom at 3 am. Motion sensors are not the answer.
Hence the Knight of Night is engaged in a constant campaign of behavior modification, where positive and negative reinforcement are applied to “help” subjects remember to turn off the lights. Unfortunately, positive reinforcements, which are preferred, are limited or overly contrived and largely ineffective.
Additionally, the time lapse between the desired action and reward delivery provides a disconnect between the two. That monkey brains need instant gratification becomes more true all the time. “Good job for turning off the lights! Here’s your ice cream,” does not create the desired effect unless a Ben and Jerry are on site and monitoring illumination.
There is also the problem of reverse reinforcement. There is suspicion that the subjects are more rewarded by seeing the consternation of the Scion of Shadow upon finding a glowing empty closet than for turning out the light. Joy at thwarting the desires of the powerful is a common theme among commoners.
Hence negative reinforcement is applied.
When my daughter was a teen, her closet light, in particular, would be left on for days at a time. For whatever 100%-valid fatherly reason, one day I waded through carefully displayed clothing on the floor in her room and was aghast to see light sneaking out from below her closet door. I flipped the switch to the off position.
Later, I asked her to remember to turn out the light.
“Okay.”
A few days later, I checked again. It was midday, and once again the light was escaping from under the door.
“Please remember to turn out your closet light.”
“Okay.”
Check number three did not indicate any difference in behavior. This time, I slightly unscrewed the light bulb.
“Dad, my closet light isn’t working.”
“How about that. Did you try screwing it back in?”
“What?”
“If you screw it back in, it will work.”
“Really.” Some tempered disgust worked its way into her delivery.
“Yes, really.”
A few days later, she was nowhere to be seen, and the light was on again. I removed the bulb.
She has her own house in another city now, and we’re emptying the house for our own move. I’m pretty sure I’ll find that bulb soon.
