Today's agenda, after Mr. OCD (obsessive-compulsive) calls the Inmates Committee (IC) to order:
Reviewing the FEC Handbook for incoming new
The first of each month normally signals a day of Chaos for Moving In (Moving Out only happens motionless on a gurney.) Occasionally some upstart will arrive mid-month, to the deep disapproval of Sandor the Super who is not known for a flexible disposition.
On any of those days Simon the building manager scurries from one floor to the next, chewing his fingernails to the bone. Simon has a nervous disorder. The elevators are tied up. Trucks jam the driveway and the inner courtyard. The walls and floors take a beating from the bashing of furniture. Never mind shrieks from overwhelmed owners. Stranger-danger: movers and their helpers wandering everywhere. Relentless dumb questions terrorize Simon as he tucks himself into a corner of a stairwell for a shaky smoke. Veteran inmates repair early to the Hearty Tartan Pub to avoid the damage and whine away the day ... a practice perfected on fire drill days.
To counteract the newcomers' Moving Day trauma, the FEC Handbook is a wonderfully useful tool for enjoying life once one's belongings are stuffed into a tiny suite. It lists the building amenities and where they are located. It also lists committees, services, and the Chain of Command for complaints ― all of which seem rather pointless since privacy legislation is interpreted as forbidding the giving out of any personal contact information.
The FEC Handbook also lists the Rules by which we are all expected to co-exist. Rules ― any of which are a regular source of dispute and confrontation ― for pets; parking; the art studio; the workshop; the crafts room; the newsletter; the library; the rehearsal room; the recycling room; security; elevator etiquette; the rooftop gardens; fire drills; management hours; and medical assistance. With a plea for volunteers everywhere!
Mr. OCD's plastic face reflects his distaste for the task of reviewing the rules. Mainly because the IC is about to bicker joyfully, endlessly, among themselves. As in:
☻Glory Overdole, star of stage and screen, selfishly held up two elevators for two days (no more celebrity mystique for her); need a new rule about that?
☻Newcomer Fitzharoldo has been screaming at the moving company that his box of 39 harmonicas is missing. We have guitar and drums echoing around the inner balconies as it is; we don't need no harmonicas. Rule to limit type and quantity of musical instruments?
☻Antagonists in the ongoing bitter 4th floor fight ― should the hall window be open or closed ― took it to a new standoff level by dialling the fire department to adjudicate. We have no rule for that.
☻Smoking weed is preferably done outdoors, not the 7th floor stairwell; can we say that? To be referred to Simon.
☻Incontinent dogs should be professionally euthanized; there are strong supporters on both sides of this issue. The more tender members of the IC are prone to argue a potential rule with sobs.
All revisions by the IC must be approved, of course, by Upper Levels in the Chain of Command. No-one ever reads the goddam Handbook anyway.
meeting day in the life ...