Friday, January 6, 2006
I have spent my entire week dealing with maniacs and thankfully today is a little more peaceful. I have just learned from some Club employees who smuggled non-cafeteria food over here to our trailer to eat in secrecy that there is a new ban on garbage at the Clubhouse. GARBAGE IS PROHIBITED. What this actually means is that taking home garbage is prohibited. Being that the club is extremely wasteful, they are often throwing away things which are perfectly good, things from kitchen supplies, office equipment, and the most popular item of all, plants. They change out the plants in the clubhouse ever couple of months and they throw out the old ones, which are still perfectly healthy houseplants, so the employees always looked forward to taking them home and saving them from death. Now Kevin Gray, Club General Manager has decided that this is no longer acceptable and they have placed a guard at the trash pile to keep employees from getting to the plants. No reason was given for the prohibition.
January 9, 2006
There are many reasons why working at Wide Lawns Country Club can be considered a pretty crappy job, but none as good as what happened at the guard gate Saturday night. Our poor guards really put up with a lot and for this one they definitely deserve more than a deli platter, a la Sadie and Jack.
On Saturday night a very, very old man, who lives here got stuck in the line at the gate house, to get into the community. He was having an emergency, which necessitated him getting home as quickly as possible and backed up traffic at the entry way prevented this. In a moment of desperation, which I can totally understand, the old man abandoned his vehicle and ran, well, not ran exactly, but did what could be described as a very fast shuffle, into the guard house. Imagine how you would move if you were 90 and had diarrhea. He begged to use their bathroom, and the guards said that was fine, but the poor soul didn't make it and crapped his pants right there in front of our horrified guards. This was a very messy situation, as it didn't stay confined to his underwear and went all over the floor. The old man then stepped in the poo and tracked it all over the floor on the way to the bathroom. The guards had no idea what to do, so they didn't do anything. It is reported though that the old man was not nearly as embarrassed as he ought to have been about this, and when he was finished, he went back to his abandoned vehicle and drove home with crap all over himself like nothing ever happened.
This left the horrifed Wide Lawns security staff with an office full of poo and no one who wanted to clean it up or to go anywhere near it. They put newspapers on top of it, sprayed Lysol and tried to avoid it, but this was only a temporary solution, until our favorite guard, who we call Robocop came along.
Robocop lives for Wide Lawns and his entire sense of self and his identity are all hinged on the fact that he works here as a security guard. He is an effeminate born again Christian who has no idea that he is flaming, flaming gay. He even highlights his hair and had a metallic gold bike helmet made for when he does bike patrol. He takes his job way too seriously. You would think he was running the FBI from the degree of seriousness he shows from handing out fake traffic tickets in here. He is widely hated by all of the residents, who perceive his strangely robotic, business like behavior, as rude and insensitive. He doesn't mean it that way, he is obsessively trying to not do anything wrong, but I can definitely see where he mechanical mannerisms would be unsettling. Robocop is also an aspiring musician. He has his own website, which I am dying to link to, but I just couldn't do that, though the temptation was hard to resist. He refers to himself as a "Psalmist", a sort of folk singer for the Lord. He is like something out of a Christopher Guest movie. Robocop also adores Broadway musicals, and apparently has designs on being in one some day (again, an umistakable sign of his denied homosexuality). A few months ago the richest man in Wide Lawns requested that Robocop be placed outside of his home as his own personal security guard. He requested Robocop because of his committment to the rules and his steadfastness at enforcing them, but then later came to our Head of Security and asked that Robocop be removed from duty because he was bothering one of Richest Man's frequent guests, who was known to have invested in some Broadway shows, and trying incessantly to pitch his idea for a gay, Christian musical. So Poor Robocop was placed back on traffic patrol, where he keeps me very busy by writing entirely too many speeding, stop sign and parking on the street tickets. This is from where Robocop had just returned when he discovered the guard house full of poo and no one wanting to clean it up.
Robocop didn't really want to clean it up either, however, he had long coveted the award of Employee of the Month, and kept getting passed over. He wanted the plaque and the $25.00 gift certificate to Winn Dixie. He wanted that special, close parking spot that says "RESERVED FOR EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH" and it is all he has dreamed about since getting this job. He knew if he was the one to step in, to save the day by cleaning the poo, that he would be a shoo in. So he got down on his hands and knees with a can of generic Comet and started to scrub.
January 11, 2006
It has to be a full moon. I haven't seen the actual moon out yet, but I know it has to be full. Today I endured so much abuse and witnessed so much freakish, insane behavior that I know something out of the ordinary is going on. Dont get me wrong. Of course, insanity is par for the Wide Lawns golf course, and I take abuse from the residents on a daily basis, but usually I get a few minutes to breathe, to heat up a Lean Cuisine, write this blog, gossip with coworkers and watch FoodTv. Not today. It was nonstop.
To make it all a lot worse our main server burnt out and something went catastrophically so wrong with our computers that I had no Internet, which is just not fair. I need the Internet to write this, to shop, to look stuff up, do my homework, correspond with friends who live far away and in general, I need it to avoid actually having to do any work. That caused me to have to deal with actual human beings all day, all of whom were raving mad.
I came in early today, which is a miracle because I am chronically late. I don't think I have ever come in early. The reason I came in early was that we had a DDB meeting. That stands for Design Disapproving Board, the most evil entity on the planet. The DDB is made up of people who live for no greater pleasure than to prevent their neighbors from doing things to their houses and to inflict dire punishments on them if they do. I have to dress up for the DDB, so I was sporting my sexy librarian look, with a pencil skirt, red lipstick and high heeled mary janes. I had some quiche and sat down to see if Angelina really was pregnant (she is!) and then I found the computers were down. You can not imagine my disappointment. Then the DDB Gestapo arrived along with the people who a.) wanted something done to their own home, or b.) Wanted to start fights with their neighbors for their wanting something done. It was mostly people who wanted to fight their neighbors. Neighbor fighting is up there in popularity with golf, tennis and extra- marital affairs when it comes to Wide Lawns recreational activities.
In walk the Wide Lawns version of the Hatfields and McCoys, our very own Mr. and Mrs. Pomme and Mr. Fistook who was sans Mrs. Fistook today. These lovely folks reside in the maligned subdivision, The Marble Arch, of which I have often wrote. The Marble Arch is home to the worst of the psychos, with Mr. Pomme being the very, very worst lunatic of all. We have two resident nut cases who are continually competing to see who can win the title of Official Craziest Man in Wide Lawns. Luckily they don't know each other. At present, Mr. Pomme is winning by several lengths. He is clearly not taking his medication. He has been at war with the Fistooks for several years now and has done everything to make their lives miserable and is literally stalking them. This is not to say that the Fistooks are innocent victims, because they arent either. They are less guilty than Mr. Pomme, in my opinion, but they are not without some degree of culpability in these matters, because they love to bait Mr. Pomme's paranoia and instigate his irrational behavior. But maybe this is just because he has driven them mad and made them miserable for 6 years. They came to fight today because Mr. Fistook wanted to put some pavers in his backyard and since Mr. Pomme hates him, and for no other logical reason, he showed up to object and cause a scene and make everyone, especially me, really miserable. It was awful. Nothing got done. Mr. Pomme, who I describe as a big, red, psoriasis ball of psychosis, is loud and annoying and held everything up and told us all how we would do in depositions because we were all getting sued and we are all in a big conspiracy against him. Mr. Fistook didnt really do or say much of anything. Mr. Pomme yelled at me for getting Mr. Fistook a cup of coffee. Now I promise that I will soon tell you the entire saga of the Fistooks and Pommes, but I simply do not have the energy or the room or the time to do it in this post. It will have to be a post in and of itself.
Once we got that lot shuffled out of the trailer we tried to finish up and I took to answering the phone. I received numerous calls from a woman who insists that we don't cut her trees and I tried to direct her to the right party for this complaint but she kept calling me back and repeating word for word what she had already said as if I were a new person each time and wouldn't realize she too was the same person.
Next Mr. Snitchberg flew into my office screaming and yelling because he received a parking ticket. A few days ago he came in and called us all classless because we couldn't charge his barcode to his club account and of course that was all our fault and this entire club is a disgrace. Mr. Snitchberg is like MY age, and a lawyer and way too young and hip looking to be this big of an asshole, but, sigh, he is that big of an asshole. He never takes off his sunglasses and goes around yelling at people all of the time. He keeps parking his BMW in our spots so I called Robocop to give him a ticket. Had he not yelled at me a few days ago I probably wouldn't have done this, but he pissed me off and ticket giving is the only power I really have around here.
While Mr. Snitchberg was yelling at me I noticed that Madeleine Flax was shrieking into her cell phone out on our wheelchair ramp. She was there a good 20 minutes and I could hear her entire conversation. Madeleine Flax looks great from about 50 feet away. From that distance you think shes a hot twenty year old with an amazing body. The closer you get the more you realize that she is actually 60 and has had enough bad plastic surgery to be a member of the Jackson family. Up close she is positively horrifying. I may have nightmares tonight just from looking at her this morning. Madeleine is going through a terrible divorce, probably our most violent one at the moment. She has been married to Mr. Milton Flax for the past four years. Milton is a horrible man, probably 70, which is not only his age, but his waist measurement as well. He is loud and belligerent, intimidating and sleazy. He kicked Mrs. Flax out a few months ago in exchange for an 18 year old mail order hooker from Indonesia who he makes out with in public each day. Mrs. Flax is still on the deed to the home, so although she doesn't live here she is still welcome to come and use the club and charge things to Milton's account. Mrs. Flax has decided that the best revenge is financial. She has taken up residence at the Palm Beach Ritz Carlton. She comes here every day to eat on Milton's account, get massages, have tennis lessons and get her nails done. She has amassed thousands and thousands of dollars of bills, which he is responsible for. Mrs. Flax was yelling at Mr. Flax because he was holding her mother's set of china hostage and she believed he was "treating her like a two year old" and she wanted him to put the dishes on the front step for her to pick up and I guess he wouldn't do it. Every day he comes in to change the access code to aggravate her and then she comes and changes it to something else. So they go back and forth and forth and back and nothing ever gets accomplished and no one ever settles the score.
At this point we began to keep an insanity log to keep track of all the madness so that I could remember to write about it all.
After Mrs. Flax departed I was cussed out over the phone by a woman who had one of her guests turned away at the gate. Before I was off the phone another woman was here to yell at my coworker because the garish shade of pistachio pudding green she wanted to paint her home in Plymouth was not approved at the DDB meeting. The shade was so vile in fact that my coworker said that the only way that Mrs. Puce, who is from France (aren't the French supposed to have better taste than this?) would ever get this color approved would be for her to have sex with Mr. Rottenberg, who you may recall has the penis nose from the greyhound and is the head of Plymouth DDB. Madame Puce was irate and insulted that no one else liked her idea for a pistachio home with mint trim and said that Wide Lawns is full of "riff raff" and she went on and on at my coworker for so long that eventually she got tired and left only to be replaced by Mr. Flick, who lives in Surrey Quay and is a reason why we call that subdivision Cheaters and Beaters. He's the beater, his wife's the cheater.
Mr. Flick was trying to register his golf cart. If you get a new golf cart you pay 25$ to register it for the first time and then $10 each year thereafter for renewals. Mr. Flick had an elaborate tale as to why he had no numbers on his golf cart and claimed he had it for years. It was a new one and looked nothing like the description of the old one we had on file, and all this to save 15 whole dollars. He became very defensive, which I called him on and sarcastic, saying maybe chipmunks chewed off the old stickers. He had an attitude, was difficult and was a liar. It pissed me off. The whole time I was thinking how Mrs. Flick has been having a very public affair with one of our spa masseuses, and how I couldn't blame her because Mr. Flick was so nasty that I would seek my happy endings elsewhere too. Finally Mr. Flick gave in and paid the $25.00 and suddenly remembered that yes, he HAD gotten a new golf cart recently. Jackass.
January 25, 2006
I am absolutely thrilled to let you all know that the Wide Lawns HOA is no longer trailer trash. You can blame my lack of posts as of late to the fact that we were indeed, after a year and a half in a trailer, MOVING. Yes, we were all pleased to be out of the trailer, but the move was not without its fair share of problems. Of course. Its Wide Lawns, remember.
To start, they have been building our new building forever and we moved in without a CO. That is a Certificate of Occupancy. Its illegal to occupy a building without one, but we're Wide Lawns so were doing it anyway and we'll all run and hide when the inspector comes. The building has huge gaping holes in the roof and the AC is leaking so we have rigged up what looks like a crude Zen fountain out of styrofoam cups and paper bowls, which leads out of the AC unit and into a bucket where it drips all day and makes passersby have the sudden urge to pee. Then they delivered our refrigerator to the wrong building who sent it back. When it finally got to the right building it didn't fit, but we were desperate for it so now it sits in the middle of the kitchen floor which means you have to shimmy by it in order to get in and out of the kitchen.
Best of all though, I have a bathroom again. I have privacy. I don't have to sneak to the clubhouse or pretend to clean. I can poo in peace if the need arises.
The move started off poorly. No one ordered the furniture for the new place in time so we had to take the old nasty stuff with us until the new furniture comes in several months. We packed up a bunch of boxers but no one had hired movers for us. We carted some stuff over there but that got old fast and there's only so much that 3 women can really do. Our bosses asked the construction workers to help us. Now the workers aren't really employees. They are people the contractor picks up on the work line each morning. This day that consisted of a Mexican guy, a 300 pound black man with one eye and an afro, and a hillbilly who was about 70 and smelled like an ashtray that someone had spilled a beer in three weeks ago. The trio started to move some boxes. About five minutes later they had all disappeared. We found the foreman a while later who informed us that the hillbilly had gotten something in his eye and decided he wanted to go to the hospital (I smell workers comp) and the black guy had to drive him. The Mexican guy didn't want to work alone so he left. The foreman had to go find some more people. This time he came back with a pack of Brazilians, men and women who were very loud and who wanted to sing and dance more than they wanted to move our things. Finally the foreman and the roof guy moved the furniture and the Brazilians samba-ed over with the rest of the boxes.
We were left with a catastrophic mess of boxes and chaos to try to put into order and that is why I haven't had a lot to write lately. I cant exactly get away with blogging at work just yet. Im writing this from home.
January 28, 2006
We have a new resident in Wide Lawns who is fast wreaking havoc in the community, and quickly becoming known as The Black Widow of Wide Lawns.
A few months ago, Rob Kayt began seeming a bit more agitated than usual. Remember, we love our boss, and he is normally a pretty laid back kinda guy. Something had obviously gotten to him and we inquired as to what it was.
"God Dammit," he said in his South Carolina drawl, "My wife's got this friend who is driving me up a wall."
You may recall that Rob Kayt has a problem keeping the reins in on his wife Monique, who has recently become a world traveling jet setter and refuses to ever stay home. On her journeys she met and befriended a woman named Carrie Brider, who is truly one of the moist heinous individuals any of us have ever seen. Why Monique Kayt would see fit to flit around the world with this woman no one can understand, because she is truly horrible. And this is coming from a group of people who have all too vast experiences with heinous individuals. Carrie Brider is truly evil.
Mr. Kayt gave us fair warning. Last August Ms. Brider, who was staying at The Breakers in Palm Beach, visited his home every day and made him drive her all around Wide Lawns in the heat and humidity to look at houses for sale. Monique had persuaded Ms. Brider who hails from Grosse Pointe, Michigan, to purchase a vacation home in our lovely community. When she finally found a home that suited her needs, after she had driven Rob to more than a few drinks at the Clubhouse lounge, and given him several migraines, she decided that something was wrong with the paint on the door frames and wouldnt buy the house if this minor thing wasn't fixed. The home was owned by some of Rob's friends and he was mortified to tell them that the contract may fall through because of door frames. He told Ms. Brider that he would go into the house himself and personally paint the door frames for her. This was not good enough for her though. She made him sign a contract that promised he would paint the door frames. Well he was fit to be tied, because his word is always gold and this woman, his wife's friend had dealt him a serious insult. He painted the door frames and vowed to wash his hands of this awful person.
We first met Carrie Brider when she had her closing. New owners always visit the HOA as soon as they close, and we give them a little orientation and get them set up in our computer system. She was like a human tornado. She was agitated and rude, abrasive and wanted no part of the orientation and didn't want to full out the necessary paper work because she was hypoglycemic and needed lunch. She asked us hundreds of stupid questions, wouldn't sit still and got on everyone's nerves. Then she blew on over the the membership office and got on everyone's nerves there and managed to insult several people in passing.
Ms. Brider explained to us that she was currently involved in a bloody divorce dispute that has lasted seven years and wont settle. She then explained that this was her third husband and that the first two had each died. Oh my God, I thought. This woman is the black widow! She was from then on, known in my mind as Scary Spider.
Scary Spider has done nothing but cause problems. When a new owner moves into Wide Lawns they are required by the club to pay a $70,000.00 non-refundable initiation fee for membership. Normally this is included in the cost of the home and is taken at the closing as part of the mortgage, if there is a mortgage. Scary Spider didn't have a mortgage. She paid for her home in cash, which is fairly common around here. She threw a fit and refused to pay the $70,000.00 at the closing and wanted to write a personal check herself to the club. This had never been done. Rob Kayt called from the slopes of Beaver Creek and implored the Club to allow this exception. Then Scary Spider, having gotten permission, gives an incorrect phone number and disappears to lord knows where for a month with no check. When she got back she was mad that the club called and asked for the money. She came in and wrote a personal check. Then she decided to go to my coworker's husband's business.
You may recall from the tale of the Jones's that coworker's husband is a locksmith and has a safe shop. Scary Spider wanted a safe installed in her home. She wanted the husband to make a housecall, because she didn't want to drive to his shop. She asked him to bring a sample of one of each of his safes to her house so she could pick one out. He refused. Safes are big and heavy and this was a ridiculous request. Scary Spider was livid and came to the shop begrudgingly. Once she had picked out her safe, which was another ordeal, she scheduled a date for installation. She then cancelled three times. On the third time, coworker's husband cancelled the entire order and said he didn't need her business and didn't want the hassle. She was beside herself with rage.
Next Scary Spider came to the HOA to get a barcode. While there she told us that she didn't know why the Kayts were so family oriented (they aren't, by the way) and that she thought it was ridiculous that they took both their children to Vail for Christmas. She said she had her kids shipped off to boarding school as soon as they were in first grade and hasn't seen them since. She sends them to camps in the summer and to friends houses in Europe for all holidays. They probably wouldn't even recognize here if they passed her on the street.
Two weeks later we find out that Scary Spider's $70,000.00 check has bounced and once again she is nowhere to be found. I foresee some interesting developments with this woman. I will keep you posted.
January 29, 2006
Here are some funny stories from last week. Once we got our phones back people went out of control calling us with all sorts of ridiculousness. You will love this.
Here is a good story from Friday. Anonymous Rich White Lady calls up and asks for permission to park her maids car at the clubhouse parking lot every day and overnight. There is no overnight parking at the clubhouse because it is closed. Parking is in short supply and its mostly valet, so this was not an option for Rich White Lady's maid. We say the maid should park the car in the driveway of RWL's home or in front of the home on the street. RWL says this is just not an acceptable option because the maids car is disgusting and beat up and she cant have that eyesore sitting in front of her house. The maids car is an embarrassment to her. I said too bad. Get your maid a new car or live with it.
At the beginning of the week I got several calls from different RWL's complaining about various types of wildlife. These are usually my favorites. RWL1, a realtor who is in her 30s and living with a 60 year old man called to complain that every day there are two rabbits nibbling grass in her front yard and that they look at her when she is walking her dog. She described them as being very menacing and scary and said she wanted them removed because she was afraid that they may be rabid and attack her and her dog. This caused me uproariously laughter because I could not stop thinking about Monty Python's Holy Grail and the attack bunny.
RWL2 called to notify me that there was an alligator in her yard and that she knows someone has to be feeding it because it is getting bigger. This may sound like a very real concern, but we are in West Basura after all and there are numerous alligators in the ponds and lakes in the area and no one ever feeds them. There is a law that alligators can not be messed with until they are over 6 feet long, at which time someone comes and hauls them out to the Everglades. You could say that this is a sort of Alligator Nursery. RWL2 expressed grave concern that the Alligator was going into and coming out of the water. I said this is what they do, they are amphibious. She was shocked to hear this. I told her about the 6 feet rule and she swore it was at least 10 feet. I know this is not true because we have people who patrol the lakes every day looking for this very type of thing and there are definitely no 10 foot lake monsters out there. In fact, our lakes could not support such a leviathan creature anyway. I asked the lake man and he said he knows the alligator and its only a few months old and is about 2 feet long and completely harmless.
RWL3 telephoned to report a snake in her yard. This too could be a real concern. She asked if I could personally come to remove it. Snake removal is not in my job description here. I inquired as to the size of the snake to see if it was a real problem. The snake was described as light green and the length and width of a shoelace. It seems to me that this is your ordinary grass snake. RWL3 said she was afraid it would bite her and was poisonous. I said no, this would not happen and that grass snakes were not venomous. She then said that she was shocked to see a snake in the community at all and did not know snakes were native to Florida. She did not know that snakes were native to Florida. We aren't Ireland here. This is the tropics and a heavily wooded, swampy area. OF COURSE THERE ARE SNAKES!!!!! (You may recall the Python incident, apparently this lady missed that event, thank God). She went on to quiz me on my snake knowledge and ask what other kinds of snakes she might encounter and was just shocked beyond belief that there would be a grass snake in a country club community. The nerve of this snake. Didnt it see the gates? How did it ever manage to get through security. I comforted her by telling her that the grass snake will eat bugs like mosquitoes and flies."Mosquitoes and flies???" she exclaimed, "We have those in here too??!!"
January 30, 2006
On Saturday night, Wide Lawns was treated to its first major car accident. Actually, I guess its the second really, after the New Years Eve sex in the SUV driving into the lake incident. This one was worse than that though.
Saturday must have been a long day for Ms. Lisa Chairmont, because she clearly started drinking very early. Lisa Chairmont is one of the Wide Lawn's concubines, as I like to call them. There is a pretty extensive group of ladies who have been lucky enough to shack up with older, rich men here in the community. Occasionally some of them even become wives, although this is more rare. Usually the men let them move in for a few months here and there and then the men either find some new young tart, or the women trade up for men who are older and richer. The ultimate goal for the gold diggers is to find a man who is as old and rich as possible because they all hope to be with a man when he dies and then get everything he has to leave behind. Think Anna Nicole Smith. As you can imagine most of the gold diggers and concubines are trashy and low class, a large majority were picked up in strip clubs or from escort services, and all of them are trying to act like what they think rich women act like. This means that once they get in here they are even more demanding, even meaner, ruder and bitchier, with an even greater sense of entitlement than the rest of the JAPs, the WASPs, the trust fund brats and the bridge club bitches. The concubines all have a lot of plastic surgery, fake boobs, fake lips and they all have eating disorders and dress and look like Posh Spice, I mean Victoria Beckham.
Anyway that basically describes Miss Chairmont.
At 9 pm on Saturday Miss Chairmont was driving home, in the BMW that her rich old man bought for her, from partying all day and was obliterated. Whoever let this woman drive home from wherever she was should be shot. Miss Chairmont was coming around the circle at a very high rate of speed and instead of turning with the road, continued straight on into a tree. The security guards at the scene, in my opinion, saved her life because they got in the car with her and propped up her head. If they hadnt done that then she would have died from not being able to breathe. When the guards tried to talk to her she was incoherent and told them to "Shut off that noise!", whatever that means. The ambulance came and took her to the hospital, but then it turns out that a few hours later she just got up and walked out because she didnt have any insurance.
Miss Chairmont has been involved in a few other controversies. A few months ago at the Season Opening Gala, Kevin Gray actually witnessed her arguing with her rich old man and then saw her bitch slap him across the face. They proceeded outside where the rich old man was seen putting a choke hold on her. Mr. Gray then interrupted them and asked if they needed security, which they said they didn't and then acted like nothing ever happened. It also turns out that Miss Chairmont is not a US citizen and is, in fact Canadian. Personally I don't normally think of Canada as a land of gold diggers, but apparently they come from everywhere. Perhaps the reason why she fled the hospital was also because she is here illegally.
In any case, please dont drink and drive or you too will end up gurgling unintelligibly with a mouth full of blood just like Miss Chairmont.