Are you sure loft living is right for you?

While it's true that I have had no formal schooling in psychology and will readily confess that people’s true motivations have been successfully (and sometimes, disastrously) hidden from me numerous times, I am comfortable in saying that I have been able to figure people out way many more times than not.  And I have an insight I’d like to share with you.

No one living here at Glen Iris Lofts would need much of a ‘sixth sense’ to readily see the iron wall that immediately goes up around Kit and Stuart Sutherland when they’re told something could be improved or is less than perfect the way it is.  Their reaction is quick and it's almost visceral.  Frankly, the speed and degree to which they so frequently take offense when others are merely  trying to earnestly, and with good intention, participate in the improvement of our shared community, has always struck me as just plain weird.  And, while I wish I could report that I had those two all figured out, all I can say is that I am confident that I have identified at least part of the problem and what may, at least, partially explain why they seem to rub so many people the wrong way.

As is true with anyone, the key to making sense of someone’s behavior lies in recognizing that you have to try to understand where people are coming from, first.  And, up until recently, I would have told you that I hadn’t even a micro-clue on where those two are coming from – and not for want of thought or contemplation on my part, either. (Continued...)

However, I recently had one of those ‘check yourself’ moments over the holidays that connected a dot or two.  We have all had them, and they can usually serve as a much-needed catalyst for personal growth and maturity.  Maybe it’s the one time when, upon finding one’s self frustrated and angry that someone wasn’t doing what you wanted them to do or doing it how you wanted it done, you paused, and for the first time, realized and acknowledged to yourself that what you were really doing is having what’s frequently referred to as a ‘tantrum’  – except that it’s happening at an age that’s way past when having one is either socially acceptable or likely to be considered anything but a lack of maturity and emotional health.by others.  Or, maybe it’s that moment when you realize that something that used to be fun, somehow just isn’t anymore - like driving around at twice the speed limit.  It used to sound like fun, and now it just sounds unsafe.

I was recently a dinner guest at the home of my parents’ friends and, naturally, trying to be on my very best behavior - because even though you may be an adult, some small part of you still acts as though you’re twelve when you’re in the presence of your parents.  It might be worth mentioning that the hosts – whom were extraordinarily gracious, charming and not at all uptight like I consider many people my parents’ age – were Canadians.  I only mention that because I am, admittedly, prejudice toward Canadians.  Canada is like all that is great about America, but with half the calories.

Twelve had come for dinner, however, I would later learn that they had initially expected only five - which went a long way toward explaining why the hosts were running around three times busier than one might expect.   It had a little bit of the feel that’s in the air on The Price Is Right! when someone’s frantically trying to pin the right price tag on the right appliance before the buzzer goes off and they lose the his and hers mopeds.

Upon noticing that the hostess – who was not exactly tall - was attempting to light what must have been twenty candles that were hung over the dinner table, I decided to take advantage of her momentary disappearance to find a chair that would provide better footing, by picking up the Aim-n-Flame she had left on the table and offering to light them for her.  Which made sense to me because, well, I didn’t need to stand on a chair to do it, and at least partially, because, like I said, I was trying to be on my very best behavior.   And as I was reaching up to light the first candle, she reappeared in an instant and snatched the Aim-n-Flame out of my hand with such speed, precision and force you would have thought she had just caught me trying to steal the flatware.  ‘I’ll do it!’ she said with a brisk and decidedly unCanadian tone.  ‘Okay’ I thought, ‘she’s a bit tricky, this one’.

Even though it felt awkward, I stayed standing there next to her as she teetered on her makeshift ladder, struggling to light the candles slowly, one by one.  It felt awkward, but moving seemed like a bad idea.  Maybe I was thinking that if I stayed put, it would be less likely that my parents would learn of the rebuke I had just suffered and end up giving me one of those grim, graveled warnings, delivered in almost satanic tones and made with nearly motionless lips, ‘that if I didn’t straighten up, I will find myself sitting in the car the rest of the evening’, like I got a few times as a kid but watched my sister get countless times.

Then a strange thing happened.  As she gingerly lit each one, she said that the candles she had used were not the right size, and that before everyone came, she delicately worked a little part of the garland that draped the massive, candled fixture, into each of the little round metal candle holders in an attempt to keep the them in place and from toppling over onto the dinner guests below.  ‘And they will fall out’, she announced with complete certainty, ‘if bumped even slightly’.  And in that instant, the awkwardness of the moment disappeared and the snatching of the Aim-n-Flame from my hand seemed less like a scolding and more like the perfectly sensible – and perfectly Canadian - thing to have done.

By not knowing how precariously the candles had been balanced into place, I no doubt would have touched one while lighting it – sending it crashing down to a table packed with China and simmering food below.  As is usually the case, I would have been better served by remembering the firm instructions my mother dispensed regularly to me and my sister when we were younger.  ‘Offer to help every so often, and cheerfully help if asked.  Otherwise, don’t touch anything’.  Because when you’re in someone else’s home, it’s easy to accidentally step on toes - and taking it upon yourself to do something you were not asked to do is sometimes an express lane to trouble.

And if you think about it, it’s a lot like that here at Glen Iris Lofts.  And this gets right to the heart of what’s wrong with our community.  Everything – and I do mean everything – is exactly the way Kit and Stuart like it.  While I’m sure they would never admit to it, they clearly see this as their home - not yours or ours – but theirs.  That’s why any and every well-intended suggestion for change or...

improvement made by residents is, invariably, as well received as any suggestion on my part would have been had I told the host what she ought to have done is buy different sized candles.  It’s not one’s place to make such suggestions when it’s not one’s home.

Many homeowners have noticed that the Sutherlands seem genuinely offended by any resident input that casts aspersion on the status quo – no matter how slight, tame or unintentional such an aspersion may be.  And if you think of you have discovered a way something could be changed or have identified a possible improvement, the likelihood that Sutherlands will be disagreeable about it is all but a foregone conclusion.  How do I know that?  Because Kit and Stuart like everything at Glen Iris Lofts exactly as it is, because if they didn’t, then they would have already changed it during what will soon be a decade of running the show.

But the problem is that it isn’t their home, it’s everyone’s home.  And that means they have to be willing to learn to accommodate the wishes and desires of other homeowners, too.  If they cannot accept the reality that it cannot be their way and their way only, then they are poorly suited to live in a loft environment and everyone - the Sutherlands probably more than anyone - would be much happier if they went back to living in a single family house where one can be, and is, the ‘king of their castle.’  Because in a loft community like ours, there can’t be any kings.  All that will come of that is what has already come of it - a multitude of homeowners who feel like that their input is never valued except by way of their willingness and ability to pay ever rising monthly dues and Kit and Stuart feeling - as they must - that their service to the community isn’t valued or appreciated by those who benefit from their efforts.

And taking ownership of what isn’t entirely theirs to take ownership of has also led to a strange perversion whereby rules and bylaws that exist specifically for the protection and benefit of all have become objects of inconvenience that are flouted, regularly twisted, ‘wordsmithed’ and even outright ignored or violated as a matter of course in the ignoble pursuit of better accommodating their vision of their home.  When one stops to consider all of the work they put into maintaining their position of control – never mind any work they do on behalf of our Association - it would be difficult to imagine that there aren’t more than a thousand more rewarding and fulfilling ways to spend one’s time.

Kit and Stuart could really do the greatest service to this community yet if they were to simply pause for a moment to check themselves.  Accordingly, in an open question to the Sutherlands, I ask:

Is continuing to live in an environment that’s not particularly well suited for those who prefer things to be exactly the way they want them, really worth compromising your professional integrity by treating by-laws as though they were ‘by-guidelines’, making enemies out of those who should be your neighbors and the certainty that any continued service to the community on your part will never produce any more appreciation and gratitude than you have already received and will only fuel a growing ire and contempt for you by those around you, or might you find more happiness and enjoyment living in a home where everything you can touch is yours, and yours alone?

And if what’s been described really is ‘worth it’, perhaps that acknowledgement itself may serve as its own illuminating moment by way of providing a powerful commentary on both the quality and quantity of the alternative uses of one’s time that is worthy of contemplation and reflection.

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