Greetings and Salutations, Brave Reader!
In previous entries of this series I've talked about where I was living prior to July 12'th, 2022, the subsequent fire that forced me from my home of 25+ years as well as the immediate aftermath of that traumatic event. Last time I warned y'all about how building owners have zero responsibilities to help tenants after a disaster...even if they housed dangerous people.
In the midst of all this chaos was one mental oasis: the promised support of my insurance company. Within a day, they'd put me in contact with the head of the removal and warehousing team, who from this point on I'll be referring to as "Yahoo Calamity"...for reasons that will sadly become painfully obvious.
I was still pretty stressed out and shell-shocked when I spoke to Ms. Calamity the day after the fire. At that time, her introductory message to me was incredibly hopefully...like a balm for my ragged soul:
"We store all your salvageable items once processed and cleaned at our large processing facility. We return back to you once ready and repairs to the structure are completed. Hang in there, your (sic) in good hands for your contents.”
Given the large amount of "handle-with-care" valuables that I own (collectibles, antiques and artwork), I felt compelled to ask how the recovery team treats such delicate things. This was Yahoo’s reply:
“We specialize in all contents. We have a (sic) electronic division, art work, textiles, hard contents and soft textiles.
“Try not to stress. Your contents will be handled with care when we start the ‘pack out’ and be put back to same spot with the ‘pack back’.
“Also anything that is non-restorable we supply a detailed list to you and your insurance company so they can price and reimburse you for any damaged items: losses.”
Encouraged and reassured by this, I slept relatively soundly that night, despite being faced with imminent homelessness. We were approaching the weekend, a weekend - I'll remind you - that was smack-dab in the middle of tourist season when COVID restrictions were finally loosening up. The Chateau Bedford staff wouldn't be able to Tetris my reservations for much longer and every single hotel in the immediate area was already booked solid.
That's when I remembered that my parents would often stay in residence at Mount Saint Vincent University whenever they came to Halifax to visit me. In a Hail Mary play, I showed up on their doorstep with all pf my earthly belongings in tow and, after spinning my sob story, they were able to accommodate me.
I gotta say, the space they gave me was quite generous:
Hell, just seeing this thing strapped to the wall made me feel better:
Despite the fact that my insurance company had given me a $12,000.00 resettlement fee, I knew that it wasn't going to last very long. This was made abundantly clear when I checked out of the hotel and paid a whopping $701.46 for only two nights accommodations. And for a tiny room that looks like this:
I mean, it's nice and all...but it's not exactly the Ritz Carlton, is it?
On the 14’th we got special dispensation to be on site to recover certain items. By that time, a security guard had already been assigned, and traffic into and through that section of the building was being closely monitored. We were also instructed to keep our doors locked at all times when unoccupied...a directive we followed religiously.
During this time I took considerable video and stills of the apartment. Despite the fact that the stairwell (which we'd fled down two nights ago) looked like this:
...my game room actually looked reasonably intact:
In fact, if not for some pronounced water damage in the ceiling, things actually didn't look too bad:
Now, when I say "water damage" I wasn't just whistling Dixie. Anyone who follows my other blog knows that I'm a huge board game nut and, at the time of the fire, I had about 130 of the damned things. And, as any board game nerd worth their salt knows, cardboard and water definitely don't mix.
Even though my game library hadn't been noticeably soaked when the apartment above was flooded, the water-logged ceiling and regular ol' summer humidity was causing moisture levels to spike to potentially destructive levels.
If I didn't get my stuff out of there ASAP, the threat of box fart would be absolutely nothing compared to every game turning into a poison gas spore whenever I lifted the lid.
As such, I expressed my concern to Yahoo before bedding down for the night...concerns that were actually addressed on the morning of the 15'th:
“Good morning. Just touching base with you to let you know that we have been notified that the building has been released. I’ve been in communication with the superintendent... and we will start our process on Monday morning.”
At this point I told her that I'd been given access to the unit on the previous day just to grab some essentials. I also told her that the removal team had to put priority on saving our plants and fish. This was her reply:
“Ok, I will note your file that you grabbed rush yourselves. We will have access Monday for the pack-out and notable items of urgency are plants and fish for getting restored and in a safe place.”
Fast forward to July 18. Once again I was granted closely-monitored access to the unit. Since I was still homeless for the foreseeable future, I thought I had to pack light. As such, I didn't want to salvage any framed art, jewelry or collectibles from the unit. Where would I put it? Plus, the email updates from the salvage team and the presence of security on sight made me feel like my things weren't in any immediate danger.
That same day I got the following question from Yahoo:
“My project manager (let's call her, um...'Dixie', I guess?) is on site at the units today assessing. To confirm you do not need any rush now? I want to be sure to advise correctly to my PM.”
After confirming that I needed no rush items, she replied:
“Wonderful, thank you for clarifying. I am passing along to my Project manager Dixie right now. If you need anything please do not hesitate to reach out. We are actively working to get all restorable out of the affected units within a few days.”
On July 19, I got the following message from Yahoo:
“Good morning. We are on site today again. I confirmed with your adjuster this morning (that) he doesn’t want us to touch the fish. It’s a liability, such as a pet dog or cat, (so) it’s up to the insured to go retrieve the live fish and we will deal with the tank. I hope this is ok. I just confirmed with your adjuster, so I wanted to pass this along right away.”
Even though I fully expected the 18'th to be my last one on site, I rushed in to dismantle the aquarium. Thanks to the intervention of some friends, the fish were saved! Thanks again to Alison and Randy!!!
I took advantage of this unexpected chance to take more video and stills. For those keeping score at home: as of 1:30 pm that day, everything seemed to be in place and accounted for.
From Yahoo later on the 19'th:
“They took all clothing out yesterday. Now focussing (s.p.) on boxing any restorable items.”
In hindsight, I guess I could have personally done more to safeguard the more - shall we say - traditional valuables in the apartment, things like jewelry and artwork. Who knows...maybe I was still in a state of shock? I can see now that I had tunnel vision when it came to protecting my beloved collectibles, but I also felt as if I could trust both the building security as well as the seemingly-sincere efforts of the recovery team.
This was no more evident in Yahoo's next message to me:
“You can trust you (NOTE: I think she meant to say 'us.' Maybe this was a Freudian slip). (You) are in very good hands. We are aiming to have everything out by Friday.”
That same day I met with Dixie to try and put my borderline-OCD / superficial hoarding behavior into context. She seemed sympathetic and accommodating, writing the following to me later on that day:
“Was nice to meet you and have a conversation on things important to you. Any questions just message or call me. I'm starting your place tomorrow so if u (sic) have any questions or anything u (sic) can reach me here or at your apartment. Have a good night.”
Given all of these recent assurances, I actually did sleep well that night. On the morning of July 20'th I woke up to the following note from Dixie:
“Just an update: your living room and kitchen is done. Just a couple odds and ends - work in progress.”
Messages like this did wonders to assuage my shattered nerves, but it did little to divert the Mack Truck of reality swiftly bearing down on me. Even though I'd found more affordable housing at The Mount...my extended stay was just as tenuous as it was back at the hotel. Reservations were arriving constantly and the kind folks at the front desk were quickly running out of places to store me.
And that's when a major miracle happened. Immediately after the fire my superintendent started making these cagey comments to the effect of "I may know someone with a basement apartment. Stay tuned!"
With the last possible available night in residence being July 25'th, I soon found myself "gently" pressing him on the subject.
"Oh, yeah!" he said. "You're good to go...I just had to clear it with the wife! You can move in on Saturday!"
And that's how I came to stay in my superintendent's basement apartment on July 23'rd, 2022...eleven days after the fire drove me out of my long-term abode.
Oh, and for the record, my final accommodations bill for the Mount was $1213.01.
Next time: As I learn to live in a well-appointed Hobbit hole, I start to suspect that the recovery and warehousing team that I entrusted with all of my earthly belongings may not be quite as competent as I originally hoped.
EPIC: I gotta thanks Mount Saint Vincent University for absolutely saving my bacon during this rough time.
FAIL: Due to climate change, disaster claims have quadrupled over the past 15 years!
