Lost In Transition

Tell me again why change is good? Oh, yeah, right. If change doesn’t occur, then you really have no reason to grow, whether that growth is internal or external. However, with impending change, one has to learn to adapt and roll, accept and climb, and move forward. Therein lies my routine of late … and I think I am a bit lost in transition!

I’ve experienced many opportunities to live through transitional periods, like most people have. After all, I have been mostly on my own since I was ten years old. You would think it would not throw me like this latest transition has. Well, maybe not exactly thrown me, but at least made me scramble to work through details: find a new job, decide on where to live: apartment or house, make moving arrangements (a two-state move to a third state; where to shop – heck, even where to park my car when I am onsite. I read that one of the last managers had her car stolen her third week there.)

My adventure has started! I decided on a new company, accepted a new position, and secured a new place to live. I hired movers and am relocating items from one state while they are loading items in another. I think (who really knows?) I have placed stop orders for cable, internet, mail and start orders in the new place for these services. I believe I have most of my little ducklings in a row and am ready to get this show on the road. During this process, I have learned one thing. Moving is not for sissies.

When I started my new position, I made arrangements to stay in an Extended Stay motel located not too far from the properties and right next to the airport. When I arrived, no one else was around and the person who checked me in was fabulous. She printed off the directions for the properties for me so I could have a back-up to ones I hastily jotted down from my iPad. It was quiet, and I settled in for my two-week stay.

Staying in a motel reminded me of living in the dorm in college. Back in the day, you could take a little electric pot, place on the desk, cook Ramen noodles, a can of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup, or even stir fry. It was a college student’s basic necessity. Nowadays, colleges do not allow this. Of course, in my day, you weren’t supposed to have alcohol either but I had a full bar in mine. (I was seventeen.) Room inspections? What is that? They never did that. I think the RAs actually do perform such things nowadays. Anyway, the motel had a microwave but every time I used it, it set off the smoke detector – which freaked out not only me but also the neighbors in the next rooms. I decided I wished I had my little electric pot from college.

Staying there in the evenings left me a lot of time to think and reflect on my past, present and future, which is always good for the soul. In fact, I need that kind of time frequently. This time of transition, as some others in my life, left me feeling lost. I don’t like that feeling. I started remembering the worst transition time in my life. The time when I was sick, fighting for my life and my husband told me he wished I would just go ahead and die. He was tired of this process. (It was a three to four year process, and I was only in the first few months of it when he said that.) The next day I filed for divorce. It wasn’t that he said it to me, but he said it within earshot of our son and I could not deal with that. I guess if he had said it to me in private we might still be together. That whole illness, treatment and getting better propelled me into the notion that I might actually make it out of that hell intact and stronger than ever.

Looking back, I marvel that my two children and I managed to succeed against all odds. Now, I am looking at all these new changes in my life and I can honestly say I am thrilled to be moving in a new direction. I know I can make a difference at these properties. I KNOW I have an Action Plan for progress. I KNOW I am here for a reason. I do not think I will be lost in this transition for long.

Wrapping It Up

December 20, 2012 found me sitting in an office confirming the final reads for utilities, confirming that the static IP address was canceled and with no phone ringing, I wondered what will happen next. The office had been cleared of all marketing materials, cleaned for the new Owners due to take over the following day, and there were two people anxiously awaiting the end of an era. At one point, I looked at the Maintenance Tech and asked him to go do something, anything, because he was making me a nervous wreck with his pacing in and out and asking me every two seconds if the deal was closed yet.

“Yes, the deal is closed. What we will be waiting on tomorrow is the exchange of funds. Once the money hits our Owner’s account, he will call and tell us to give whoever is here from the other company, the keys,” I said.

“And that’s tomorrow, right?” he asked.

“Yes. That’s the way it will work.”

Wrapping up the deal, the final Hoorah, requires attention to detail, patience and the ability to swallow my pride, as well as hold back tears. Endings are sad and I am NOT good at saying good-bye to people I like, let alone passing the reins to a company who chose to handle the purchase of our community as nothing more important than the purchase of a pound of ground beef.

December 21, 2012 dawned with a major weather advisory. How is it that we didn’t even experience temperatures much below 45 degrees all last winter and this winter we get hit with sleet, freezing rain and snow on this important day? Technically, the property was not even mine now, though I opened the Office and readied it for … someone new. The computers were gone; there was no internet, no cable service, no good treats any more and Christmas was only four days away. I had planned to bring in cookies, but sometimes the best laid plans don’t always work out. So, now there was the two of us, one who was asked to remain on board and me, who was deemed expendable, sitting and waiting. I thought to bring in a magazine but Greg just sat there. Staring.

And the phone did not ring. At all. For hours. Finally, I called our boss and explained I had an appointment and with the weather raging unkindly outside, I needed to leave. So, I had no idea what took place until I arrived back around 8:30 PM to a little note stuffed in my door.

It was addressed to: Occupant

How classy is that? Why wouldn’t you address your new ownership letter to Resident?

“Dear Occupant” it began. My heart stilled. I read each word quietly reflecting on its simplicity (and one grammatical error.) I still feel strongly about the Residents and to know the new Owners look at them as Occupants made me particularly sad. I don’t care what great plans they may have for the buildings, when the Residents read “Dear Occupant” they will not be impressed, I thought to myself.