Earnest Arbuthnot wore a distinguished air and most people saw him as the epitome of their ideal of an English gent. He had arrived as an expert advisor for a special exhibit, been asked to fill in temporarily for a vacating museum curator, and in that time had grown to appreciate the city. Or rather, as his fine manners were noticed, the city grew to appreciate him, drawing him into its inner circles. He reflected that as a single middle-aged man it was hard to be unhappy with such social recognition, such a steady diet of delicious events to attend. 
As he was admired here more and more, he found himself missing his old life in England less and less. At home, he was quite an ordinary chap; here, he was the bee’s knees. He eventually decided to stay, applying for and then accepting a full-time position at the museum. He now lived at The Prospect, quickly drawing the notice of other residents for his respectful and well-expressed remarks at monthly association board meetings.
Everyone who lived in a condo automatically became an association member, was encouraged to participate, and held a vote or votes based, rather like the condo fees, on the percentage of ownership in the association. And although the meetings at the POP’s were typically well attended, not everyone spoke at them. There were lots of listeners; a mercy, perhaps.
It was the nomination meeting night. The residents gathered in the meeting room over coffee and treats generously provided by Rosie’s owners, the Pardoes. Rosie was left alone upstairs to ponder seeing treats go out the door instead of visitors coming in to share them with her.
The only other new business was a suggestion by Kitty Doyle that new signage be purchased for the common area rooms. “I think we should get new signs for the rooms, bring their names up to date like in some of the new developments. It’s beginning to look like an old folks home around here. I mean, who has an exercise room anymore, or a meeting room. Duh.”
“Perhaps you would like to form a committee to look into the cost and get back to us?” proposed Mr. Pardoe. Kitty glared at him, momentarily upstaged; she expected to be served by others, not to perform service for others. Attention then turned to the nomination of directors for the next year. The number of directors varied from association to association. At The Prospect, there were three positions; President, Treasurer, and Secretary.
Mr. Pardoe spoke. “I have enjoyed being your President these past years.” This to a smattering of applause. “Many interesting issues to be resolved in the first years of a development, I have learned. But my many upcoming business engagements will require me to step down and not consider another term.” He saw that some in the room were discreetly folding their hands, sitting on them even. Not everyone was presidential material, clearly.
“If I may speak for her, Mrs. James, our Secretary, has informed me that she is willing, if re-elected, to continue in her present responsibilities.” nodding in her direction and then noticing a general air of relief amongst those assembled; one less vacancy to fill. “Not that we wish to discourage anyone else who might wish to run for that position.” he was obliged to add. “Also, you know that our Treasurer has moved away, so we will be seeking nominations for that position as well.”
“So, to the nominations. Mrs. James?” announced Jack Pardoe, turning the procedures over to her.
“Let me be the first to thank our outgoing President for his generous service to the association.” she began. “Let me also quickly remind you that the President, with the other directors, sees to the management and maintenance of association property held in common, and also to it’s finances, setting the budget and common expenses, and finally, to upholding the rules. You will find a full description in the by-laws in your condo docs. We are now open to nominations for the office of your association President.”
“I nominate Mr. Arbuthnot.” ventured Mrs. Pardoe.
“Second.” quickly followed from several others.
“Any other nominations?” queried the Secretary, studying the owners over her bi-focals. She was watching like an auctioneer, waiting for the smallest of signs. She had spoken to many of them privately during the past few weeks and knew how reluctant most people were to volunteer, especially during those years when there was no galvanizing issue compelling active involvement. All directors were volunteers.
“It is your opportunity to have a voice,” she urged, “and if you don’t volunteer you can’t really complain later about the performance of someone else who does take on the job! As you know, we have only three directors here. Many other associations have many more to do the work. But we also have special committees from time to time; also volunteer, such as our cookbook project—a quick reminder to keep those recipes coming in please.” She waited a few moments more, jotting down her minutes to allow ample time for thought.
As there were no further names forthcoming, she announced, “We are now open to nominations for the office of Treasurer. I will…” She was interrupted by a voice right beside her.
“I nominate Hasno Pupik.” giggled Kitty Doyle, as though she were enjoying some private joke.
“I second the nomination for Hans Knopupik.” rejoined Mrs. James, correcting Kitty’s pronunciation while trying to suppress a hard stare of reproof at the quite obviously silly blonde woman to her right. “I had been going to quickly summarize for you those responsibilities before we heard the first nomination. I will continue with those now. These are shared by all directors but in this case are primarily financial, setting the budget and common expenses, managing the reserve, determining monthly association fees, and also any special assessments that might become necessary. Some of these may be farmed out to other professionals such as accountants, so being a wizard is not required. The ability to explain these well to the residents would be a plus. Once again, all this is laid out in your condo documents.”
“Any others? Once again, for Treasurer?” As she glanced up from her notes, she observed Kitty suppressing a yawn. What’s this all about? she privately wondered. Obviously nothing to do with any genuine interest; not much surprising there really, as she rarely even came to meetings. Did she just want to mangle his name out loud to cause embarrassment? Be intentionally mean?
At the next meeting, in the absence of any currently raging association issues, predictably, the new Treasurer and the new President were elected unopposed, and Mrs. James was returned to office. No cost estimates regarding signage were forthcoming and Kitty Doyle was not in attendance.