Banned: A Sad But True Tale of Amenity Deprivation

It’s been a month now since I and dozens of other residents have been effectively banned from the pools at The Old Dutch Village Condominiums. This is especially unfortunate considering neither I nor they had an opportunity to so much as put a toe in the water this season, as the banning coincided neatly with the opening of the pool over the Memorial Day weekend.

Need I say I was out of town over the Memorial Day Weekend. I had no idea I had been banned until I first traipsed down to the pool with Basil on my return, just to take a look and see if in fact it had opened as scheduled.

I had no idea of my banishment until I tried my key and found it didn’t work.

I’m sure my Homeowner’s Association (a fancy term which translates neatly and effectively to, ‘Nothing Gets Done On Our Watch’) took this into consideration and realized I might not be happy over finding that my pool key (for which I paid $35 at move-in three years ago) had been rendered ineffective with no warning and certainly no reason (although, in the three years I’ve been in residence, I’ve yet to see a plausible reason for anything they do). I’m sure they might not have lost sleep over my distress but certainly believed they’d had a restless nap during their last board meeting. Until, however, they let me in on the logic behind this unprecedented ridiculousness, I was left to my own devices, which were to wonder what the heck was going on.

I was certainly current – even a month or so ahead – on my HOA fees. I was no more unattractive in a swimsuit than any other resident, and unlike last year, I’d made no attempt to smuggle Basil poolside (one scathing letter threatening fines in excess of my mortgage and the implied towing of not only my car but Basil too, had effectively dissuaded me from ever trying that one again).
There was no reason I could see for being locked out. And silly me, even after three years of life in a condo, I expected a reason from an HOA.

So I called the HOA office. Surely, they could help me. They’d been very helpful the last time I called, to inquire just why it was that my HOA fees were going up 4% again this year, just like last year and the year before, and perhaps forever until the mortgage was the small payment and the HOA required me to immediately consult with my financial advisor about dipping into the retirement fund. At the time of that call they’d informed me very cheerfully that the increase was due to, ‘scheduled improvements’ and to give them credit, I’ve actually seen a few of them happen. My entry foyer did get painted and I thank all the powers of heaven for that because one more day of a shade I came to refer to as Eggshell Disaster and I was going to have to close my eyes every time I opened my door and ventured down the stairs. They did, as they’d promised, ‘augment the landscaping with updated plantings’. The parking lot was resurfaced.

OK, I get it. But we’re talking one coat of asphalt, a couple cans of paint and three Japanese maples that aren’t even in front of my building. That’s hardly 4% worthy.

OK, they did hire a new grounds crew but just because they’re not undocumented aliens isn’t 4% worthy, either. What’s 4% worthy to me is access to the pool. Especially when it’s hot outside. Especially when I would like to get some semblance of a tan without resorting to artificial means like those ridiculous spray ons, or (heaven forbid) paying actual money to lay in a tanning bed and envelop myself in cancer causing rays (somehow, they seem less cancer causing and more Vitamin D enriched and healthy when they come directly from the sun. That’s my story and I’m sticking with it).

My helpful HOA office greeted me with a recording, and I left a message. Please, I said, contact me and let me know why I can’t get into the pool.

With lightning speed three days later and with no call back, the answer appeared in the form of a flyer posted in the foyer of my building, and everyone else’s. Due to a ‘malfunction’ of the electronic key system (which had managed, somehow, to function quite well for many years before now and which really should have been checked out as part of regular pool maintenance before the pool opened), all keys currently held were inactive. They should, however, not be thrown away (or, I’m thinking, returned for that $35 deposit considering they’re useless) and new keys would be distributed at 9:00a.m. on two specific mornings. Please come to the clubhouse and get yours.

Two specific mornings when I wasn’t home.

So, along with a lot of other people, I’ve been patiently waiting for the old key system to be repaired (this was implied, right? I mean, otherwise why hold onto the old key?) and being secretly happy that overall, the month of June has been rainy, wet, cold and cloudy. Not conducive to thoughts of swimming. This is changing as of today. When I hit the freeway this morning it was almost seventy. It’s going to be hot all week. It’s going to be hot this weekend. It’s going to be pool weather and I want to go to the pool. Just as I wanted to go to the pool last Saturday, the first sunny day we’d had in between thunderstorms. But rather than slathering myself with cocoa butter and absorbing megadoses of Vitamin D while I reclined in a lounge chair, I resorted to long walks with the dog, taking heart at the conclusion of the afternoon walk when I spotted Chad and Anthony, two of the upstairs neighbors, sprawled in lawn chairs at the back pool. Chad and Anthony may occasionally annoy me by using their living room floor and hence my ceiling as a trampoline, but overall they’re generally willing to help with just about anything.

“How did you get a key?” I asked.

“We didn’t,” Chad said casually. “We scaled the fence.”

I pondered that. Somehow the idea of scaling a chain length fence in a bikini, while it may have seemed plausible to me twenty years ago, didn’t appeal.

“Call the HOA?” I asked.

“Recording.”

“There aren’t going to be any new keys,” Anthony observed. “It’s a conspiracy.”

I thought about that, too, and realized he may just be right. Suddenly it dawned on me how foolish I’d been to trust them, to believe the whole ‘malfunction’ theory. It was smoke and mirrors, a screen for the fact that they didn’t want to deal with the pool, so they’d deal with as few users as possible. Users like that very small handful of people who were able to get to the clubhouse on those two specific mornings. Why should I trust people, I thought, who institute a ‘Severe Measure Policy’ (and even post notices advertising it) against the storage of furniture and other items in the carports? Who stress that carports are for cars only and any violation will result in an immediate and immense fine and the removal (never to be returned) of whatever item(s) was/were residing in said carport.

For the last three months I’ve been one carport down from a sage green Barcolounger. What a fool I’ve been.

I like to consider myself a fairly rational, reasonable person. I try to consider myself that, but I stray a bit (OK, I veer completely from it) when it comes to things dear to my heart. And trust me, time at the pool is dear to my heart, with the added bonus that it keeps me from looking like an Albino. Not for me this time would be rational measures such as perhaps, a letter to the HOA. Or a phone call to a board member. As far as I would go was the post I left on the association’s Facebook page, asking who I needed to contact, what I needed to hock, even perhaps who I needed to go on a blind date with or arrange a blind date for in order to get my 4% worthy pool key.

The Facebook page, obviously maintained by the HOA, did not respond.

It’s going to be hotter tomorrow than it is today. Therefore Basil’s walk this evening will be longer than usual, and perhaps when we’ve returned, I’ll spend an hour or so lifting those small dumbbells I for some reason kept when I moved in. Perhaps I’ll go for a quick jog after that, and start the push-ups and sit-ups before bed. If I really work hard, I can be stronger and faster by the weekend.

Determination will see me through.

Bikini notwithstanding and with my sincere apologies to any residents who may be looking out their window when it happens, I’m scaling the fence, too.