Friday afternoon was winding down into evening. At 4:30, the office thins out and I usually can get a couple more hours in without the phones ringing or other interruptions.
The phone rang.
It was the storage facility manager. We handle property maintenance for this facility, and one of the tenants said he heard a loud "bang" and his roof started to leak. Nice. There is proof of order in the universe in that these things always happen at 4:30 on Friday, after all the "technicians" have gone home. Einstein may have solved his Unified Theory had he only known where to look for evidence.
Having been in this business for a long time, and given the description of the location of the problem, I was pretty sure I knew what had happened, and it was not a pretty thought. As luck would have it, this occurred directly between my own personal unit and the taller building adjacent. Some quick mental calculations led me to the conclusion that the roof had collapsed on my side of the wall, taking down the wall flashing, due to a snow drift that built up against the higher wall. This is common (snow drift, not collapse). Knowing that the lower building was in existence first, it was unlikely that the roof was reinforced for a heavier show drift condition when the larger building was added later. I've seen this before. The best part was that the tenant was a piano restoration company; you can guess what was in the unit.
I had a pretty clear image in my mind of working well into the night as I drove the too short trip to the storage facility. The only bright side I could think of was that my own stuff, probably buried in the avalanche, was mostly outdoor furniture, and was probably not ruined.
But luck was on my side. When I got to the scene of the crime, there was no visual evidence of a roof collapse. It turns out that the complaint was greatly exaggerated. That almost never happens. My diagnosis was partially correct: there was a big drift up against the leaking wall. And the lower roof was not reinforced when the upper roof was built. So the lower roof was sagging enough to tear loose the flashing, but not collapse. I knew that there was no way to repair this in the snow, but I had to at least relieve the pressure. So you guessed it: I got to combine my two favorite tools into one job--a rare occasion. I got to use a ladder and a shovel at the same time.
I set up my folding ladder (I keep a folding ladder in my truck for just such occasions) on the icy, snowy pavement and leaned it up against icicle laden gutter. The storage manager held it from slipping out from under me and threw up a vintage snow shovel once I was securely standing on the ice and snow covered metal roof. For the uninitiated, there is nothing known to man more slippery than ice and snow on oily metal (think Chevy Chase on the oiled up saucer in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation). The drift was about 3 feet deep. I began shoveling the snow off the roof with a shovel that was akin to a license plate nailed to a broomstick. About ten minutes in, the tenant who had called in produced a nice plastic scoop shovel, which greatly increased that rate at which I was approaching a heart attack. As I worked, huffing and puffing the cold air into my already compromised lungs, feeling the burn in my chest and drowning in phlegm, I thought about how lucky I was.
Channeling Voltaire's Dr. Pangloss, I ran through my initial assessment and, compared to the reality of the situation, this was quite a mild outcome. No roof collapse is always good. I had a ladder and someone to hold it, keeping my brains securely contained within my skull. Definite plus. A shovel was provided, and even an upgrade arrived, saving me from having to procure one after a record snowfall. Bonus. I was able to shovel the snow off the roof and leave it where it hit the ground, as it blocked only my own unit, and I knew that I would not complain to the manager. Sweet. And, the roof was only about 9' high, so my acrophobia was not at issue. Best of all, the few times I fell on my ass, I did not slide off the roof edge.
So in retrospect, I have to say that Friday must have been my lucky day. Truly, "all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds". Should've bought a lotto ticket.
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