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The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

There is water dripping from my ceiling.

The Good

Nico and I, together with my assistant Denden, are all safe, albeit wet, and still trying to dry off wet furniture, electrical equipment and wet clothes.

The Bad

At the onslaught of Basyang, around 2 am, we find ourselves trying to catch some sleep by tiring ourselves with new iPad games – Nico with Sushi Chop, and yours truly with Veggie Samurai – in the dark, of course. But as we progressed from mere games  to trying to find some much needed internet connectivity, Nico discovers that the other unit’s wifi connection was up, signaling the presence of electricity (or at least the one generated by the building’s generator). We call the lobby and ask to check if the power was back up, and in less than 5 minutes, there is light. But to our shock, with the light came the much dreaded appearance of water, in the most unlikely of places: from the ceiling cracks (which developed just then), to the bathroom exhaust, even to the fire alarm itself, in the center of the unit. And upon further inspection, we discover that in the kitchen, water was incessantly leaking on top of one side of our shelving, causing the kitchen cabinets to warp like hell.

To say that we panicked is an understatement, as we desperately searched for  every towel or piece of cloth to stop the rain that was developing inside our home.  We call the lobby and asked to have some maintenance people come up and assist us in fixing the problem. They come, they take pictures, they promise to report the issue in the morning, and then leave, without even offering to help literally patch up the oozing rain, or just to provide us with buckets for the trickling water. None. So from 230 am to around 4, or until Basyang left the vicinity of Fort Bonifcaio, we were there, hoping that the rain would stop, and praying that the ceiling won’t give up on us while sleeping.

The Ugly

It is now 930 am, and I call the administration office and demand to speak to the building engineer to ask him what the plan was for this problem. They come, take more pictures, promise to report the issue to the contractors and developers, and leave, without even offering to ask if we needed any assistance with the wet furniture, or to offer any temporary fix to the already obviously in-your-face problem. None. They did offer to clean the floors, and after much following up, housekeeping comes and mops the once-wet-with-icky-rain-water-but-now-dry floors. Nico and I both prepare to go to work, and pray that no rain comes for the next few hours, at least while we are out of the house.

The engineers promise to call me within the day for updates on the progress of these “reports” and as I anxiously wait from 11 am till 4 pm, I get nothing from them. I rush to go home, proceed to the administration office and confront them about the issue. It is then that I am bombarded with details on how the rain water entered the roof through the exhaust system, of firewalls, and of blocked passages. But none of the solutions that I was expecting, temporary or long term. I tell them it is of no concern to me how the water entered; it has already happened. My concern now is how not to let it seep through my ceiling again and create any further damage. I ask to speak to the contractors directly, but I am told that it is almost 5 pm and that no one is available to answer my call. They try to calm my nerves though by promising to band-aid the problem, so I calmly return to the unit and wait for them to fulfill this promise.

At 7 pm, I am greeted by 3 maintenance people ready for battle, but with only one catch: they can’t seem to find a way to get into my ceiling from the hallway, from my bathroom, and from the outside. It seems like the only way to get up there and fix the problem is to make a hole in my ceiling. And they can’t do that because they’re not authorized to do so by the administration because it is after office hours. So as we all frustratingly give in to the fact that nothing can be done for now, I continually pray that no rain happens at least until someone can do something about my leaking ceiling.

Did I forget to mention that I live in Serendra, one of Ayala’s prime real estate projects, and that my unit is not even 3 years old? Or that I live on the top-most floor of this particular section?

AyalaLand, Serendra, and Alveo, are you listening?

***

One does not spend millions of pesos in order to live in one of the best prime spots in the city, only to be turned over with a unit made with sub-standard materials. One does not pay such high association dues only to be greeted by inefficiency, lack of concern, or just the offerings of basic human decency. One does not expect an almost still new establishment to show signs of wear that only a condominium that has weathered at least 2 decades should show. In instances where one’s patience is tested, one only expects the fundamentals: ask and you shall receive. So is it to much to ask to be safe in my own home, Ayala?