Time To Start Believing In Yourself

When I was living in Grand Rapids, Michigan I was like a lot of young mothers whose friends were the other mothers of our children’s classmates we met and bonded with at PTA meetings, field trips and room mother assignments. Chances are you may still be in touch with these other kindred spirits. One of these mothers who became one of my most cherished friends was named Louise. She and her husband were raising three children, two of which were the same ages as my two.

Louise, at that time, was studying to be a teacher and had just gotten through her student teaching phase when I moved – again. Over the next few months of my settling in to a new town, getting my oldest situated in a new school, decorating a new house – you know – life, Louise was hired for her first teaching assignment: Fifth Grade at an inner city school. Like most first year teachers everything was stressful. Her class contained students who wanted to be anywhere than there in a classroom; her principal was obnoxious and hard to deal with and expected more than any one person could deliver. After a few months, Louise noticed that on her drive in to school, her stomach was hurting. Soon she would become nauseated and would vomit each morning, even before the drive.

Ever helpful, I offered, “Maybe you’re pregnant?”

No, that wasn’t it. She went to her doctor and he diagnosed stress as the culprit. I shook my head while we were talking on the phone. “I don’t know, Louise. You’ve never been like that before and having three kids can be pretty stressful!”

Long story short, Louise agreed. She kept going back to her doctor and finally, after the umpteenth visit, he ran some basic tests. She had a CT scan and it revealed a huge tumor in her abdomen. It was cancer. She began treatments. Her persistence in her belief that it was not all in her head, as some had told her, led to the diagnosis and eventual treatment that saved her life.

I kind of marveled at her tenacity! If it had been me, I am sure at that time in my life, I would have discounted that little voice telling me something really was wrong. But Louise did not ignore it. She pursued it. It makes me wonder, still, do we feel confident in our beliefs? Do we ride that tide of belief in our decision-making processes? How easily do we throw in the towel and surrender?

I have tried to embrace Louise’s level of self assuredness in my profession. I want to project a confidence that comes with knowing and believing in what I am doing. After all, if I don’t believe in my community and all it has to offer its Residents, how can I convey to them my joy that this is the place to call home? I know this starts with me and my ability to communicate my love for this community as home. It always starts with one and that one is me.

Prospects Say the Darnedest Things

The other day I received a phone call from a Prospect wanting to know about availability at our community. Since I had just gotten a cancelation (Boo Hiss!) on a two-bedroom unit, obviously I was happy for the opportunity to re-lease it quickly. Right off the bat, though, this person’s phone demeanor was … honestly, not pleasant. She made an appointment to come in, which she did yesterday.

She was early for the appointment, which is one hundred times better than being late! She brought an accordion file folder with her and placed everything on the table in the Leasing Office. With what I now know to be her typical “directness” she began interrogating me about policy and procedure. Immediately, it put me off – not necessarily making me defensive, but I thought, WT*? You aren’t even a Resident and you are questioning every possible scenario that could come up in a lease situation. I wondered if she’d had some terrible issues somewhere else, so I asked her, but she said she had not.

I asked for her ID and went to tour the community and the available apartment. (I admit, it was kind of hard not to think ugly thoughts about the person who was a perfectly wonderful elderly woman who had had to cancel her lease! Were it not for her, I would not have to be with this mean person.)

On the way to the unit, Ms. Prospect asks me, “Are there any children here?”

I asked, “Why do you ask that?”

“I don’t like kids. I don’t want to live anywhere near kids. They’re loud and where we live now, they have a kid and when they play, they make all kinds of noise. I think they let the kid ride his tricycle all over the place.”

“Well, there are some children here. I don’t control that,” I said. “I do understand your concern though.”

“Oh, I know you can’t answer this question because of Fair Housing, but I just want you to know I don’t want to live around kids,” she said.

“If you understand that my renting to families is a Fair Housing question, then you know there is nothing I can do – or want to do – about families living here. I do know there are people who don’t really enjoy children. I get that. I really do. ”

After that little exchange, I was ready to say something else entirely, but we continued to the apartment. She loved it and made another appointment to bring her husband back over the weekend. I hope her husband, as a police officer, will be more respectful or at least open minded.