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DONG-PHUONG NGUYENTampa Electric crew members get a hero's welcome in some neighborhoods and yelled at in others.
TAMPA - They are cheered like football stars who make game-winning touchdowns.
They are jeered like receivers who drop the ball in the end zone.
They are offered bribes.
They are mobbed by angry residents who try to chase them up utility poles.
This is what it means to be a power company worker in the Tampa Bay area.
Wednesday morning, as on mornings almost every day of the past six weeks, thousands of utility workers gathered in the predawn darkness at staging areas around the bay area to begin yet another 16- to 18-hour day.
At the parking garage behind Dillard's at University Mall in Tampa, crewmen from as far as Arkansas stood under a hazy moon and florescent lights to eat, be briefed and to review maps.
This staging area, one of six run by Tampa Electric Co., will serve as the crews' meeting point at the beginning and the end of each day until everyone has their power restored. That means the crews could be here until Sunday.
Inside the parking garage, the utility workers sat on metal chairs at long tables draped in white paper cloths. Over a catered breakfast of bacon and eggs, they shared their experiences - from the funny to the frightening.
The most frequently asked question of the crews is "When?"
"Everyone wants to know when their power is going to come back on," said Jose Manzano, a 26-year-old Tampa Electric meter reader. "But we just don't know."
Manzano, like most of Tampa Electric's employees, has had to take on new tasks. He's now an assessor, canvassing the county with field engineers to find problems.
One woman tried to bribe fellow meter-reader-turned-assessor Arthur Dunnigan Jr. with $100.
"Where was this?" asked Carlos Pagan.
"Palma Ceia," Dunnigan replied.
"That's it? In that area? All they're going to offer you is $100?" Pagan asked, drawing laughter.
"I couldn't take it," Dunnigan said. "I just told her I'm sorry, that I didn't know when her power would be restored."
Pagan told a story of his own. On Tuesday he was surveying the Oldsmar area, around Hillsborough Avenue, when he saw two main power lines down. He flagged down a troubleman, a more experienced crew member who works alone and tries to solve problems without having to call in reinforcements. In just 20 minutes, with much of the neighborhood watching, the troubleman had the power back on.
What happened next astounded Pagan.
"It was like a football game," he said. "People were cheering, shaking our hands."
The brushes with celebrity are tempered by the response from some of the hot, sweaty, anxious homeowners.
"They yell at us about the trees being in the lines, about everything," Pagan said. "You're heroes in some spots. Others, you just want to roll up the windows and pray, "Please don't hurt us."'
At times, residents have crowded around Tampa Electric trucks and tried to stop them from leaving areas without power.
"They want answers," Manzano said. "They want us to put on our hats and climb those poles. We have to tell them that we're here to assess. But they don't want to hear it."
The angry residents appear oblivious to the sacrifices the workers are having to make. Manzano said when he leaves home in the morning, his wife and daughter are asleep. When he gets home, they're asleep.
"I miss them, I miss life," Manzano said.
That sentiment was echoed Wednesday on the other side of Tampa Bay.
John Bafia, 43, a Progress Energy lineman, said the overtime pay of recent weeks has been a strong incentive. But the time away from his family is difficult.
"My 8-year-old wants to know what I look like," Bafia said. "Every time I talk to him, he wants to know when I'm coming home again."
Times staff writer Carrie Johnson contributed to this report.