I know you’re supposed to love thy neighbor. But they make it pretty difficult to do when they’re out to get you.
I recently replaced the house number stickers on my mailbox. The Low Country heat and humidity had caused the old ones to curl up and peel like day-old cheddar on the charcuterie board of life. I ordered new numbers that looked almost identical to the old ones, stuck them on, waved to the neighbor walking her dog, and moved on with my life. Or so I thought.
The following day I received a letter from the HOA informing me the numbers on my mailbox were in violation of the gated community rules and regulations. I had 30 days to comply or I would be fined.
For those of you that are not familiar with the joy of living with an HOA - it stands for Haters On Alert. The HOA comprises a Haters Army of two types of people: ones who have been wronged in a past life and have made it their mission to seek vengeance, and former mean girls who need fresh blood to prey upon when their kids are at school. They patrol the gated communities under the guise of walking their dog, riding their bike, or driving. But in reality, they're scoping out the neighborhood and reporting everything they feel is offensive, out of compliance, or irritating. Their ire may be sparked by your choice to use stone instead of pine straw or leaving your holiday decorations out one moment longer than arbitrarily deemed acceptable. But, like the timber rattlesnake, the Haters On Alert strike comes unexpectedly and with an underlying sentiment of disdain and condescension.
After spotting something vexing, Haters On Alert call an emergency meeting to defame neighbors they believe are single-handedly destroying property value and plan their attack strategy.
“Haters, I know we are all very busy finding minutiae to complain about, so let’s jump right in. First, the secret HOA handshake.”
Everyone flips the bird.
“Secretary Karen, are you taking notes for the people who apparently have something more important to do than protect the neighborhood from the scum and villainy that reside here?”
Replies with the requisite “Eff you!”
“Ok, good. Now, first up, Tracy Winslow. My dog was pooping in her front yard when I noticed she replaced the number stickers on her mailbox.”
(Dramatic pause for full effect)
“She used an unauthorized font.”
(Audible gasp)
“This is in direct violation of Rule #7,628 on page 932 of the HOA rule book.”
Cries of “Stone her!” and “Burn her house down!” bounce off the conference room walls.
“Yes, I know. I’d like to as well. But let’s kick off the hate campaign by sending her a passive aggressive letter. We will give her 30 days to get into compliance while simultaneously making it incredibly difficult to do so. When she doesn’t, we will levy a hefty fine while simultaneously releasing a truckload of moles and armadillos into her yard. Then give her an additional fine for having an unsightly lawn. Isn’t that delicious? She will never see it coming!”
I called the Mean Girl In Charge to find out which font I was supposed to use, since Amazon’s was apparently robbing the neighbors’ will to live with its impropriety. I could hear her eyes rolling as she informed me that I can’t just do it myself. I needed to contact the “mailbox guy” and pay him to do it.
“We have a mailbox guy? Like, one guy, whose only job is to put stickers on a mailbox?”
Her reply “Yes, you irksome waste of acreage. How dare you think you could just put something on your mailbox without our permission? We have a process for this that involves lots of paperwork and multiple meetings before we tell you that you are not allowed to do it. Your rogue behavior spits in the face of our basic laws of governance. You should be grateful we even allow you to live in our town, let alone this gated community, you uncultured swine.”
So, I left a message for the mailbox guy. The mailbox guy is apparently in very high demand, because it took him an entire month to get back to me. I’m positive the Haters also contacted him to convey the dire situation.
“What!?! She just went ahead and placed that garbage font on the mailbox? Does she not realize that mailboxes are the eyes to the soul of our community? She threatens our very existence with her gauche Times New Roman when we are clearly an EB Garamond! Have you considered raising her annual dues another $10k to make up for this injustice - or can she not afford it? Times New Roman - can you imagine?” (insert haughty laugh)
The Mailbox guy arrived at the eleventh hour with two HOA approved numbers, razorblades, and a spray bottle of what I imagine was some highly corrosive acid to fully decimate the visual atrocities. Thirty seconds and $50 later, I was now in compliance with mailbox numbers that looked almost identical to the ones MBG had just eviscerated. He twiddled his mustache as he sped away in his HOA mobile towards what must be his next numerical emergency.
My neighbor was “walking her dog” and came over to see the commotion. “Finally got the right ones, huh, Tracy.” she said with a twinkle in her eye, while her dog did his business right next to my Carolina pine.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a decoration that looked like a birdhouse. Shouting “VIOLATION!” into her HOA issued earpiece, she called for an emergency meeting, and then cartwheeled away to prey on her next unsuspecting victim, leaving my new numbers and me alone...for now.
Up Next in the Surviving the Gated Community series: Who hurt you? Tracy Winslow Deconstructs the ARB*
*ARB = Already Rejected, Bro