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.