Holy Toledo! I cannot make this stuff up since I am not a creative thinker...so here is what happened....
The purpose of the two night trip was to work with the insurance adjuster, Otis, who had sent a proposal that was waaaaay off the mark. In fact, it was so off the mark and far from reality that dad did not respond to his emailed proposal since he needed time to decompress...in other words, he needed time not to punch Otis in the nose for:
1. dragging this reimbursement/adjustment out 9 months
2. not doing his job as our advocate
3. not being prepared
4. missing crucial information and items that were destroyed by the flood....
Also, our permit was denied (as you know) because the house is under the town's flood height (or something like that).
We had a mess on our hands.
So, we left the northeast Saturday afternoon and had Sunday to prepare for Monday's meeting with Otis, the adjuster, Barney Fife, our builder, and the architects....Andy and Opie. Sunday was a beautiful southern day and I cannot remember the last time when I sat in a chair outside and read a book. I believe that most people call it relaxing. Me? I don't know the actual feeling of relaxation, so I will call it "doing nothin' for three hours and likin' it."
Monday came far too quickly and everyone assembled at the uninhabitable southern house to strategize and consider options. But first....Otis......
The goal of meeting with Otis was to call him out (nicely) on his flawed numbers and his lack of responsiveness to our requests...pleas.....to complete the project and send a check for damages. What happened was not predicted nor acceptable...
Fade to black....
We are standing in the demolished kitchen at 9 am...all of the cast of characters....mind you, this flood happened in May....then there was a hurricane....then silence from Otis because of the hurricane (which happened 6 months after the flood)....
Dad said...in a direct manner: "Your numbers are way off."
Otis immediately got defensive and said: "It's because YOU did not send me the numbers."
Let's stop here and consider Otis's reaction....is it our job to send him numbers? Isn't it the adjuster's job to look at the damage, analyze the findings and cut a check? Bingo, we are done. How the heck does it become our job to send numbers? Seriously? What numbers does he need?
Next, dad started to get hot, which he usually does not do during serious negotiations. He generally does not play his hand. But said to Otis: "You have not done your job and I am losing my temper."
Then Otis gets offended and starts to clean up his papers to leave.
Leave? Seriously? Where are you going? Uh, dude.....why are you packing up.
Then dad says: "let's go into the living room, I need to talk with you."
The four of us stood astonished in the kitchen and I could not hear what was going on but I knew that it could not be good. They came back and Otis had tears in his eyes...yes, I said tears....then he packed up again. Barney, Opie, Andy and I were flummoxed as he kept saying that we did not have numbers, he did not have the plans, how can he give a check when WE were unprepared. Mind you, we are working with a local guy whose insurance rates are sky high and is supposed to do his job.
Then dad said (much to my chagrin): "Fine, I am a distraction here. I am leaving and you can complete the work." Then he stormed out.
OK, Reader....here we are.....with a raging home owner and an inept crying insurance adjuster who is blaming everyone except himself. Why is this happening?
Otis prepares to leave for a 4th time and I say: "Otis, we came here with great expense and time to complete this project. Let's focus on the issue at hand and finish what we need to finish."
Between his tears and tantrum, I thought that I was dealing with a petulant 4 year old.
This is unacceptable, yet I could not storm out and had to be a big girl. Fortunately, I had my big girl panties on....OK, they are actually mom-underpants...comfie and do not cause wedgies....Back to the kitchen.....
I began to plead with Otis....not in a placating way but using the leadership theory that I teach each Wednesday praying that it would work.
Rather than attack Otis, I guided him to focus on the issue. Let's go...right now. We have a list of the damages....you don't....come on...room by room...take notes....listen to what we are saying....create a spreadsheet...send it to the guy or girl who cuts the checks and disappear. I had to say this 5 or 6 times, finally Otis's eyes cleared and we moved him into the office to review the damages.He kept saying "I need numbers...." Yes, that is your job....to either create numbers or ask for them in advance...let's say 6 months ago....
He also said " I don't have the house plans. I was working off the Servo Pro professionals who cleared the house from the water." Guess what, when he showed me the house plans, they were hand written on a napkin. It gets better....
AS we went from room to room...and thank God for Opie. She had the plans and photos to show him. She was definitely our advocate and went through the rooms and showed Otis the damages and what had to be done to restore the home.
We got to the back room and the closets had mold as pointed out by Barney.
Then Otis looked at me and said: "Haven't you been running the air conditioner? "Huh? The air conditioning? Is he freaking kidding me? No one lives here. No one can live here. Why the @XGSEE*)*&!! would I run an air conditioner? For the dead lizard in the living room or the spider building a web in the office? Is he for real??
AS we finished, we moved back into what I call the former kitchen, 'cause it can be anything now from a play room to a sauna since it is gutted and empty. Opie says to Otis, "I can send you the house plans.""
Andy said: "I sent you the plans in a .pdf months ago..... Remember?"
BOOM! A sonic boom went off as Andy dealt his hand. Otis had the house plans months ago and chose to work off the napkin schematic. Yes, folks....game, set, match.....
Otis, then admitted that he had the plans and had forgotten. Sheesh!
it was then that my allergies hit me and I needed fresh air.....
As I stood by dad in the front of the house, Otis stormed out, turned on his car...and sped away.
Sigh....While dad was outside, he called the person who sold us the policy and Otis's boss. He expects a call today or he takes this debacle to the insurance commission. He was calm. I was a bit shaken by what had happened as Otis presented himself as a good ole boy who enjoyed a beer or a six pack and a comfie chair with his remote control.
As we reconvened back to the house, we began to address the next issue....the missing permit....stay tuned....it gets even better.
Got to go to step class.....
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