The Emerald Rose

I manage what are called “Community Associations” here in Florida. They are better known as “Condo’s”, but not exclusively. A Community Association is any form of owned living area wherein there are “common” entities involved as well, i.e. swimming pool, tennis courts, private roads, clubhouse, common area landscapign etc. The result is everyone living in the “Association” has to get along and live within a certain “framework of rules” and be careful not to violate them, hence “up-setting” others living there. It’s really quite simple,…or is it?
That’s what keeps me in business, literally. Now one Association I have has a rule that you must keep all your trash hidden until the evening before the trash collector comes, then and only then can you have your rubbish barrels at the curb for emptying. And they must be out of sight again the evening of the trash pickup day after they have been emptied. Simple, right?
Apparently not as so far I’ve gotten at least ten calls about this one home in the neighborhood wherein every day another odious black plastic trash bag appears in front of the garage door (Oh the shame of it all. The beginnings of a ghetto is upon us!) My phone calls are running sort of like this,
“Hi I just wanted to tell you that you are doing a great job managing things, but I did want to let you know about one tiny problem I saw coming home from picking up my medical prescriptions from the drug store. You know that “pink house” on the corner? Well they have bags of trash all over the driveway ion front of thier garage door. It’s not supposed to be outside until wednesday evening and it’s only monday. It looks like hell and it’s making the whole neighborhood look terrible. We bought in here because it was so pretty and neat and these people have no consideration for the rules and they don’t care about the property, and the next thing you know they’ll be hanging laundry out to dry and all, it’s just disgusting, you have to do soemthing about it!”
“I understand. Do you know who owns the house?”
” I think the folks live up in Indiana, …Terre Haute, (aside) is that where Mabel and Charlie come from honey?,…….Yeah, Terre Haute.”
“Then who’s living in the house?”
“I guess they must be renters.”
“Have you met them, or have any name or anything?”
“No.”
“So how should we procede?”
“Well send then a letter and tell them we’re going to fine them a hundred dollars a day for everyday there is a bag out there outside the accepted times.”
“And why should they care, they are just renting and they don’t own it and you really can’t fine them by law.”
“Well send the letter to the owners then. They have to take care of it.”
” Ok, I’ll tell them I recieved a complaint from you about this….”
” No, don’t use my name, Mary beth and I know them. I don’t want them to be mad at us. Tell them someone else told you.”
“Well I’m sure they will want to know who told me, wouldn’t you? Particularly if they live a thousand miles away and are going to be fined a hundred dollars a day!”
“Well,… can’t you do it some other way?”
“Certainly,…what do you suggest?”
” Well I don’t know. Listen I’ve got to go I’m running late for the men’s club lunch meeting, but take care of that for us.”

“Yeah right!”
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