I read in the news that on Thursday at 2:00 a.m. a morning recuse attempt was being made to residents in an apartment complex in Bethel Township because of the flash flooding that just happened.
Meanwhile, I was answering an 8:30 a.m. telephone call from our Sales Manager, Don Selanders, who advised me to come to the office as soon as possible. “We’ve had some major damage here at the office,” he described in a terrifying voice.
I live only four miles from our office, so it didn’t take long for me to get to Covington. Don had told me that I had to get to our building by going through the industrial park and Marshall’s Service. He was right because the village had blocked the road leading to the office.
I learned a long time ago, to imagine the worse, when someone tells you that something bad has happened. But, when I arrived, I hadn’t imagined enough.
Our property looked like a war zone. The entire Northwest portion of our drive way was completely destroyed. It was nowhere to be found. I peered at gravel, open pipes, and mud. The once blacktopped driveway was gone. Railroad ties, a foot massager, a snow sled, and tons of corn fodder had replaced our blacktop.
I immediately went inside, to see if there was damage in our offices? Everything was normal. “Have you gone to the basement?” Don asked.
“I’m going right now,” I replied exiting the building to an outside entrance. When I tried to open the basement door, I couldn’t move it. I did manage to push it open to get my first look. Everything was turned upside down. Records, boxes, tables and lumber. Don helped me get the door opened, and suggested we clean the stair steps before going any further. I agreed, and suggested a water hose.
Once I got into the mud bath, I proceeded with as much caution as I knew how. With water, mud, and electrical damage – I knew this could be a very hazardous situation. Don yelled from behind me, “I think we better wait until this dries out a little bit more.” Once again I agreed, and slowly backed out.
My next call was to our insurance agent. The answer I received was not what I wanted to hear. “Which building is damaged?” she asked me.
“The one at 395 S. High Street,” I replied.
“I’m sorry Gary, but that building is in a flood zone. I’ll send the claim in, but you’ll have to wait until the adjuster calls you,” she informed me.
He’s not to arrive until Tuesday, May 27th.
In the wait, I still have two hot water heaters, two furnaces, and an air conditioning unit still waiting for someone to rescue them.
This week’s bottom line: I really don’t know what we’re going to do? I’m probably looking at thousands of dollars to get us back to normal. What I’m really afraid of right now is the possibility of mold and mildew building up until we get answers? I know this situation is in God’s hands. I just hope I can be as loyal as Job was in his catastrophe.