A HABITAT Holiday Special: " 'Twas the Night Before Meeting"

'Twas the night before Meeting, when all through the board

Not a member was stirring, not even McCord.

That board prez just sat there, a saint among saints

Who'd deal with, tomorrow, some stupid complaints.

The residents, nestled all snug in their beds —

Who knows what insanities dance in their heads?

"I don't like the hallways, the lobbies, the lights.

It's too hot. Too cold. We don't have any rights!"

When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,

McCord rose and went to see what was the matter.

He opened the door and there — birds of a feather —

The other board members were gathered together.

The energy-saving lights there in the hall

Gave the pallor of death to the board one and all.

When, what to his wondering ears should he hear,

But the members bemoaning the Meeting so near.

There was one grumpy resident, Nick, in partic'lar

Who grumbled and griped — was a regular stickler.

He called the board tyrants, dictators and worse.

Though HE never for ran for the board, no, of course.

"You're Hitler! You're Stalin! Pol Pot! Mussolini!

You're Ivan the Terr'ble! That Amin called Idi!

A recall election! Now that's what we need

To keep our poor building from going to seed!"

The board they all huddled, McCord and the rest,

With reason and logic, to do what was best.

Together they figured out, noble and true,

For the Meeting tomorrow what they had to do.

And then, in a twinkling, tomorrow was here.

At the Annual Meeting their duty was clear.

McCord raised his head and then, cut to the quick:

"The board yields the floor to our resident, Nick!"

He dressed pretty normal. If you had to look

You'd never have guessed from the cover that book

Was filled with misguided resentment and more.

Nick was a blowhard, a bully, a bore.

"I have here a list of dire problems," he tolled,

As residents 'round him their eyes they all rolled.

The board wasn't perfect, that everyone knew,

But they still did a reas'nable job through and through.

All patiently listened, the owners and board,

As Nick's heated rhetoric simmered and soared.

He wanted horse stables! A boat ramp! Jacuzzis!

He wanted the board to evict 3G's floozies!

He wanted a doorman in top hat, he said,

He wanted an awning to give them "street cred."

He wanted to be a big shot — ego salved —

And THEN (he said) he wanted maintenance halved!

The board thanked him kindly, then went straight to work,

And carefully, point by point, butchered the jerk.

They laid out: "Impractical, costly — though, Nich'las,

The awning's not bad. But the top hat? Ridic'lous!"

The residents nodded and gave their assent.

And Nick, he walked out, all his energy spent.

But I heard him exclaim, to those far and near,

"You can all go to hell. And just wait'll next year!"