Epic Fail or Epic Win? Miracle I

Epic Fail or Epic Win? Miracle I

Epic Fail or Epic Win? Miracle I

The dictionary defines a miracle as 
a surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore considered to be the work of a divine agency.
I’ll agree with that.
A miracle also makes your hair stand on end and your heart beat faster,
Or a least it does that to me!

The first miracle occurred not too long after I arrived at my store to find it
ankle deep in a slimy, sludgy, mud, which was the lovely parting gift the flood had left me.
I was walking around in circles with my mouth hanging open.
Oh…
I mean I was professionally assessing the damage.
You really do go numb, like the people say on the evening news when something
awful has just happened to them. You CANNOT believe it is happening to you!

The file cabinet behind my desk had filled with water, so I was peeling 
apart my insurance papers to find the number to call, to get the adjuster here quick!
This was 6:30 am the Sunday of Labor Day weekend.
Good luck with that!
When I did finally reach him, he said he was away for the weekend and he would get back to me Tuesday, like my toilet had overflowed or something.
I told him to watch the news.
Crews were everywhere by this time, waiting to get in.

Now, the fire department had caution taped the shit out of the entire block,
and they were doing some cleanup on the street, so we had to prove we were the owners to even be allowed near the place.

I was inside for about 30 minutes when a scruffy, middle aged man walks into the store and starts looking around.
He’s shaking his head and doing that tisking sound.
I’m on my phone, looking for a flood cleanup company, but I ask him what he’s doing.
He keeps looking around with his hands on his hips.
Then I ask him nicely to “get the hell out”.
As he’s leaving he mumbles something like “your insurance is never going to 
understand and pay you for your this stuff, it’s too esoteric”.
My husband and I say at the same time “hey, what did you say”?

He explains that they’ll deny the claim because flooding is subjective, and even if they don’t, they won’t pay. 
He says I’m in for a long fight.
He recommends I call a Public Adjuster. They will take over everything and deal with the insurance company. For a fee of course.
What?!
It’s now after 7 and I’m starting to feel panicky.
I’ve never even heard of such a person, and ask him for a recommendation.
He used a certain company and gives me the name, but he says there are several
And I should call a few.

I’m writing furiously on some wet muddy paper, and when I look up…he’s gone.
I run out to get him so he can tell the other merchants what he just told me.
He’s nowhere to be found.
When I describe him to the fireman they have no idea who I’m talking about!

Several friends I’d called to come get a load of what’s happened, had to call me to come get them past the security line, but somehow this guy showed up and gave me the information I needed.
I enie , meenie, miney, moe and pick one company out of the three names I found.

Gary was there in an hour, fired the cleanup crew that was walking around clueless, hired some pros that specialize in art and antiques and got the whole thing under control.
He was professional and comforting, and knew exactly what to do.
Ten percent sounded like a bargain, I would have paid him a million dollars at that point.
For the first time that day I took a deep breath, and started to cry.

Oh, and my scruffy, middle aged angel? He was exactly right! When the adjuster came on WEDNESDAY!!….he denied the claim.
He said “flooding” was open to interpretation, and I didn’t have flood insurance anyway.
But that was okay, I had Gary.

We were in for a long fight.

Xox Janet
(To be continued)

1 Comment
  • Ivey says:

    Thanks for your marvelous posting! I definitely enjoyed reading it, you’re a
    great author. I will remember to bookmark your blog and will often come back later in life.
    I want to encourage one to continue your great job, have a nice evening!

Hi, I’m Janet

Mentor. Pirate. Dropper of F-bombs.

This is where I write about my version of life. My stories. Told in my own words.

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