Midwest Memo
Angry folk
by Alan Shultz

The meeting went on and on, a full three hours and then some.

There were several hundred in attendance. It seemed that a majority was mad. The anger was an undeniable presence in the auditorium.

There was shouting and shushing.

There was booing and jeering.

The meeting was for homeowners of a large 700-member condominium association. Most folks are neighbors, members of the same community. Some of us are absentee investors. The resident owners don't like us investor owners. That's an old riff that won't go away.

The subject of the meeting was a touchy one: money. A big special assessment was being considered for roof work, tuck pointing, elevator modernization and emergency reserve funds. From where I sat, the assessment was a done deal, something necessary to keep the ship afloat - so to speak.

Four volunteer board members sat on the stage at the front of the auditorium. They were seated on uncomfortable looking folding chairs under glaring spotlights aimed in haphazard fashion. On either side of the board sat the hired guns, a lawyer, an accountant, some of the property management team. A fifth board member was missing, an almost unforgivable absence considering the gravity of the decision being made.

Introductions were made. Reports were given. The case for the assessment was made. All the while, catcalls, outbursts and insults flew across the room. No Roberts Rules for some people.

When time for public comment came, dozens formed single lines on either side of the auditorium for a turn at the microphone. What they really wanted was a chance, a shot at the board members, their unpaid, elected neighbors bearing this particular bad news.

Then, as though amnesia powder had been sprinkled on the microphones, one speaker after another after another stood and leveled the same criticisms, the same old war stories. In some cases, folks brought silly little items to the floor, mailbox problems, parking complaints - the common everyday stuff of community living.

"They all just need to vent," said the lady sitting a few seats from me. She aimed her remark to no one in particular but seemed to offer it up as an excuse for some of the really bad behavior.

What was amazing to me was something I would have never predicted. Many speakers let loose at the microphone. They would point a finger at the board and make some outrageous accusation. Then, after some pandering to the crowd, the complainer would earn a round of applause from some corner of the room. Then, as though their task was accomplished, many left without even a response to their specific charge.

Some folks just want to be mad. Such anger, though, comes with a price. Many of the owners left the meeting with their anger applauded. Some left with a little chip on their shoulder for their shot at the powers that be. But we all left that meeting with less feeling of community, less hope that things were getting better, less sense of a common good.

All that venting, it came with a price.

I once served as legal counsel to an extended family that pooled their resources and together bought an existing business.

The business was to serve as the employer of many family members and a long-term investment for the group.

But that wasn't to be. I watched the group as they moved from celebration to litigation. Old family rifts and personal agendas quickly got in the way of running the business. And the business couldn't wait on the family's collective problems. The income stream sputtered. And then the time came when everyone was just angry. The big picture was nowhere to be found.

And like the lady said, "they just all needed to vent." Except that this group vented themselves into a business failure, losing several hundred thousand of equity invested in the initial acquisition. For me, the whole drama was like watching a train wreck in slow motion. The inevitable conclusion being so easily predicted.

Sometimes there's room for the angry folk to rant and rave. We give them audience and a pass from being a part of the solution. But sometimes the angry folk, in their need to be heard, well, they sure have a way of making matters worse.

Go figure.