I believe it was Jack Nicholson in one of the Batman movies who said “Why can’t we all just get along?”
Because we just can’t. Why? Because we come from different backgrounds, we have different languages, we have different expectations. And we don’t have each other’s playbooks.
Living in a Strata complex is interesting, and it is a constant minefield of potential storms. There are the “Four P’s” that always cause issues Those are people, pets, parties and parking.
People: Different cultures, different personalities, different wants and needs, different tolerance levels for different things. Out of 14 units we have two definite closet racists who also love to meddle in everything and complain about anything.
Pets: Some people love ’em and want ’em. Some people hate ’em and don’t want ’em. Always good for an annual clash. Cats are allowed, dogs are not. But we have a dog in the building that we agreed to allow. Our bylaw is no pets of any kind in the building without prior written approval from the Strata. It gives pretty good control. But having a dog makes it a bitter pill for others who want dogs.
Parties: There is always someone close by who doesn’t appreciate other people’s noise and have a lower than average tolerance for it. Luckily we don’t really have a major party building. For the most part the age bracket is over 40 (one unit is an exception) and that makes for a relatively peaceful place.
Parking: Everyone usually has their own designated spot, but use the wrong one, or muddy up yours with “stuff” and someone will be sure to grumble.
When Kirk and I looked for a place to buy years ago, we thought living in a small complex would be preferable to the large apartment blocks we had lived in downtown. Well, yes and no. In those large places you had the opportunity to be anonymous if you wanted. In a small complex, you better be ready to be a part of a community. I’m relatively private and I try to stay out of the Strata when and where I can, but sometimes you don’t have a choice but to be drawn into things.
Last week I was happy in my solitude when there was a knock on the door followed by the handle jiggling. That would probably alarm most people (someone trying to get in!), but I knew it was probably just our Strata President from upstairs, he does that…knocks and then opens the door and calls in. Freaked me out the first time, but then, I don’t usually lock the door when I am home and he’s an open door kinda person. I usually just get alarmed because I think the cats are going to shoot out.
Anyway, he wanted a bit of backup approval to get the windows cleaned that day. Sounds fine. A bit later the phone rang and I recognized his cell number. When I answered all I could hear were raised voices and he didn’t respond to my “Hello?” So I hung up. He called back a moment later and asked me to come upstairs to one of the suites where a contractor was repairing the deck. I walked into a war zone. The contractor and the owner’s wife were yelling at each other and our Strata president was desperately trying to get a word in edgewise. It took about 30 minutes of telling each one to stop talking over the other and my trying to figure out what was going on. Turned out that there was a whole lot of miscommunication going on and in the end things were sorted out and everyone calmed down. The deck was repaired, the woman finally ended up (more or less) contented and life went on.
Living in a Community can be trying, but at the same time, i suppose it is no different from any suburban neighbourhood. We just live in closer proximity, but the same principles apply.
Love thy neighbour?
Not always. But tolerance makes life easier.