The Roof Is Inside the Building

Alex and I had talked about it for years. A few months ago we finally decided: new roof, new sides, the whole building, top to bottom. Tuesday morning, Alex called me while I was still trying to get out the door.

"Where are you?"

"Trying to leave the house."

"Hurry up, you need to go talk to John. Something's wrong with the building."

I was already in the buggy — no phone calls allowed in that thing, so I'd actually stopped it just to answer. Got to the building, found John. He told me the building was "twisted." Twisted. Okay. A storm had twisted the building. I called the insurance company, told them we were getting a new roof and the builder said the building was twisted, and they said they'd get right on it.

John and his crew did the work exactly as planned that day — took off half the roof, shored up the building the way they were supposed to, and left around 3 or 4 that afternoon. Nothing about it looked wrong to anyone, including our own crew, who kept working inside the building the rest of the day. Jay and Scott were the last of us out, at 4:54 pm.

At 5:24 pm, the roof came down inside the building.

Thirty minutes. That's the part I can't get past.

That evening, our crew started getting phone calls asking what was going on with the building. Everyone gave the same answer: just getting a new roof. Then Jay got a different call. "No, you don't understand. The roof is inside the building."

Oh.

Travis was driving me up there when I called about the gas. I asked if I should have the electric shut off too, since I'd already had the gas cut. He said, "Don't be that person." Fair. We got there after dark, and you could tell from the road that something wasn't right, even if you couldn't say what. Walked in and had to duck around pieces of ceiling that were at eye level, or step over ceiling that was now floor. That's when it clicks. Travis said, "Call Ameren."

Darren from the City of Anna showed up and turned off the gas and water. The Ameren guy asked if I'd flipped the breaker off myself. I told him I wasn't going that far in. He looked, and didn't blame us. Turns out he bought a vehicle from us years ago and still drives it — small world, and a genuine thank you to him and Darren both. Utility guys don't get thanked enough, and these two were sharp, kind, and good at their jobs.

I told Jay to get everyone to meet at the farm in the morning, but not to say anything that night. Didn't tell the contractors either — figured they needed a good night's sleep before finding out. Alex, who was in Atlanta for an auto auction the next day, told a friend the building was "supposed to look like that." Wednesday morning, my mom asked how my morning was going. I said not great. I explained. She said "oh" — needed a second lap around the explanation before "ceiling is on the floor" landed.

The contractors showed up Wednesday and were just as surprised as the rest of us. We called insurance again: new problem. They were nice about it, said they'd be right over.

Everybody told me not to go in the building alone. I didn't. Today, I asked the adjuster if I'd ever be allowed back inside. No. Could I at least get my books? No. I kept circling back to it — "So I do not go back in the building, right? No. What about—? No, you do not go back inside the building." I feel for that man. He told me he deals with people on some of their worst days. I told him I do too, in my line of work. He pointed out his version includes loss of a different kind sometimes. I can run an auction. I don't know that I could do his job.

We still worked an onsite auction Wednesday, because the auctions don't stop for buildings twisting themselves inside out. It's Thursday now, two days out, and I haven't gotten much else done this week. I'm not going to pretend otherwise.

Happy Bidding!
Kara C. Belcher-Miller

P.S. — A genuine thank you to Darren with the City of Anna, Seth with Ameren, and our insurance company and adjuster. Every one of them showed up fast, treated us with patience, and did their jobs well during a bad week. We appreciate you!

P.P.S. — To everyone who's reached out this week to check on us, offer help, or just say "that sucks" — thank you. It means more than you know.

P.P.P.S. — And to our consignors: thank you for your patience and understanding while we get through this. We haven't forgotten about you, and we're working through it as fast as we can.