It was a glorious day. After nine years on the board of directors of my homeowner’s association, five of them as president, I was free. My long neighborhood nightmare was over. I was tempted to call this post, “Free at Last, Free at Last, Thank God Almighty I am Free at Last;” but comparing a notable quote that referred to the cessation of slavery, bondage and oppression to being freed from an HOA board might not be the most appropriate thing to do. But then again, if you’ve ever served on an HOA board, it’s not that far off after all.
As a homeowner, I’ve lived in one condo and two deed restricted communities. I can’t explain why, but I’ve served on the boards of all three. It is apparent I am just too stupid to know better. For this last round, my ascension to the board was truly unintended.
My wife and I purchased a new home in the summer of 2009. It was a community we at one time could not afford, but thanks to the gleeful greed of speculators and financial institutions in the early ought’s, the market had collapsed to a most affordable level. Most newer Florida developments are built on land that has been stripped of every living thing. Similar looking houses are then wedged in rows by a common developer and an obligatory palm tree is placed in the postage stamp sized front yard. By contrast, we moved into a fairly unique Florida community. Our neighborhood, constructed in the late 80’s, was developed with homes built by several different developers, many of them unique. The most notable feature of our area is it is an “old growth” neighborhood; the developers built around the Live Oaks and pine trees instead of bulldozing them. As a deed restricted community, it had maintained an appearance and charm that attracted us.
In the fall, a few months after we settled in, our annual Homeowners Association Meeting was announced. I suggested to my wife that we go to the meeting, as we were new residents and it would “be nice to meet the neighbors.” I did not realize that it would be a lesson in apathy; one that would ensnare me for almost a decade.
My wife and I arrived at the Annual HOA meeting to find five haggard board members, and our 90-year-old neighbor who lived across the street from us. That was it. There was no one else. One of the existing board members, thrilled beyond belief that a viable replacement had just unwittingly stumbled in the door, wrapped her arms around my ankles and refused to let go until I agreed to take her place on the board. Thus, began my unexpected odyssey.
The board in my community is definitely not comprised of “condo commandos,” that ignominious classification of little Napoleon’s who have far too much time on their hands and want to bend everyone to their indomitable will. No, we have long tried to strike a balance between upholding our standards while working with the apathetic hoards who comprise much of the community. Deed restrictions are designed to protect everyone’s property values by requiring proper upkeep and preventing unusual or bizarre designs or modifications in a community. Like organizations everywhere, the typical 80/20 rule applied. 80 percent of the residents never presented an issue, while 20 percent of them caused 80 percent of the work for those of us on the board.
Someone set up an area for our community on the public neighborhood website, NextDoor.com. I call it the whiner website. It is the place where people who never lift a finger or make any effort to help their community go to relentlessly criticize those who do. If you’ve ever served on an HOA board, you know that the CAVE people (Citizens Against Virtually Everything) can come out in force whenever you have to undertake a major project. Actually, they are never there when the difficult planning work is being done, but they arrive in time to try and stop it whenever the plan is well underway. Usually the objections are borne of ignorance; had anyone bothered to show up at monthly board meetings or paid any attention to the published minutes, they would have had a better understanding of the underlying issues. But then again, who has the time to be involved?
It is easy in some ways to draw parallels between the HOA experience and workers’ compensation. Florida mandates that all HOA board members go through training and be certified. A HOA has relatively rigid rules, and the state mandates specific processes in its management. Most of the people protected by HOA deed restrictions lack a clear understanding of the specifics involved, and at least a small percentage qualify as completely clueless to the rules and regulations. When something goes wrong, the solution can be relatively easy if the HOA board does what it is required to do, and the homeowner understands the process. If either of those standards are not met, conflict and litigation are bound to follow.
Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?
My blissful exit from board responsibilities came when a new neighbor, who lives across the street from me, came to our annual homeowners meeting to “meet the neighbors.” Actually, the recently retired professional baseball player had been enticed there by another board member and friend, who knew that I was ready to be extricated from the board. He kindly agreed to take my place, and I was allowed to gracefully exit my position. Well, if you can call putting my fingers in the shape of an “L” on my forehead and yelling “Later losers!” and running from the room graceful, then it was a graceful exit.
I jest of course. I managed to maintain my professional composure. Wouldn’t want to spook our newest board member, after all.
I must admit to a bit of withdrawal from the whole affair. I now see things happening in the community for which I had no previous knowledge. I see something that needs to be addressed and I have to remind myself that I am no longer responsible for doing that. I probably should show up at a board meeting to see what is happening.
But, really, who has the time?