As promised, the second letter from The Teacher:
"One last thing, I haven't seen this problem in any other of our buildings, apparently the rest of you are lucky to live in a building with clean neighbors. Frankly, I have only seen this problem in nasty buildings with dirty people, but in our building there is a unit owner who leaves shoes and boxes of stuff outside of their front door. Now, on occasion, that is not a problem. But this is a daily occurrence in my building, the owner has been asked in the past to refrain from doing so. It also sinks up the hallway in the immediate area where the shoes are located! I am asking the board to remind unit owners in writing that per the bylaws, there shouldn't be any shoes or other boxes/garbage left out in the common element hallway. Although this unit owner has been told in the past, perhaps placing a fine on it will finally eliminate the problem (also get $ for the board!). It is unsightly, especially when the shoes are cheap, fake, old and wet! In any event, please remind all unit owners this is not a project, or apartment building where personal property is left out in the open. Perhaps that is what they are use to and probably where they come from, but unit owners who leave shoes and/or trash out in the hall should realize that they have moved up in the world to this beautiful Woodlawn condo building! A few years ago, we actually had a neighbor's underwear sitting outside of her door! Nasty people, I tell you! By the way, this is not just a complaint from me, other unit owners in my building have complained about this neighbor leaving trash/boxes/shoes in the front hallway, as it is also sometimes left at the bottom landing of the stairway, yes, right where people enter and exit! Go figure!
Let's remind unit owners to not act like the "cuzins" by leaving junk and person items in the hallways, and to leave shoes/garbage either within their personal unit or in the trash. I know that a year ago someone else volunteered to draft a letter about this, but it was never done. I will volunteer this time to write the letter for the board's review, indicating that there will be a fine for people leaving junk outside of their door in the common area, either in front hallway or back porches. Please make this an agenda item for the next meeting for board vote.
Thank you kindly,"
Wow.
Wowzy, wowzy woo.
In case you didn't know, that letter is about me.
Once again I'm the bad neighbor.
Showing posts with label The Unexpected. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Unexpected. Show all posts
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
Best Kept Secret
I discovered late last night that "I Hate My Developer" is a finalist in the "Best Kept Secret Weblog" category for the 2010 Bloggies.
I almost plotzed myself.
I'm really honored that voters thought enough of what I write to offer it up to everyone else for their final consideration.
For those of you who are coming to my humble little concern by way of the Bloggie website, welcome.
Since there's no pressure to go through all of the 650+ posts (unless you really want to), if you scoot down the left sidebar you'll see a section labeled "Essential Posts" for your perusal.
'Cause from time to time people want to know how I came up with such a catchy name for the blog.
Nonetheless, lets get down to the important stuff.
Where's the swag?
It's awards season and we all know that with all of these ceremonies and the hoopla there's usually some type of free stuff from luxury purveyors.
They want high profile peeps to be seen in their stuff.
Yet for some reason I don't think that Rolex is clamoring to get the watches on the wrists of Bloggie finalists.
But wouldn't it be a better world if they did?
So in the absence of crazy swag, I'd appreciate your vote.
And the votes of your friends.
A Bloggie may not solve my unemployment issues or help me figure out how to keep my utilities on but it will reinforce that my writing for the past four years has been valued and appreciated.
Frankly speaking, I could use a little bit of both right about now.
I almost plotzed myself.
I'm really honored that voters thought enough of what I write to offer it up to everyone else for their final consideration.
For those of you who are coming to my humble little concern by way of the Bloggie website, welcome.
Since there's no pressure to go through all of the 650+ posts (unless you really want to), if you scoot down the left sidebar you'll see a section labeled "Essential Posts" for your perusal.
'Cause from time to time people want to know how I came up with such a catchy name for the blog.
Nonetheless, lets get down to the important stuff.
Where's the swag?
It's awards season and we all know that with all of these ceremonies and the hoopla there's usually some type of free stuff from luxury purveyors.
They want high profile peeps to be seen in their stuff.
Yet for some reason I don't think that Rolex is clamoring to get the watches on the wrists of Bloggie finalists.
But wouldn't it be a better world if they did?
So in the absence of crazy swag, I'd appreciate your vote.
And the votes of your friends.
A Bloggie may not solve my unemployment issues or help me figure out how to keep my utilities on but it will reinforce that my writing for the past four years has been valued and appreciated.
Frankly speaking, I could use a little bit of both right about now.
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Things Fall Apart, The Chickens Come Home To Roost
One afternoon there was a knock at my door.
Imagine my surprise when I saw The Teacher on the other side.
Neighborly feelings have been in short supply since the bad neighbor dustup in the fall of '08.
While I was sorely tempted to walk away from the door, I answered it with a noticeable attitude.
And before everyone gets pissy, please note that I've gone across the hall and knocked on my neighbor's door only to hear someone come to the door, see them peep out the peephole and hear them walk away.
I'm just trying to give you all some background, but I digress.
So there we were, face to face.
The Teacher proceeded to briefly tell me what had been said in the condo board meeting; some of which was directed at her.
I was taken aback not only at the highly personal nature of the barb but the fact that since I was only one of two people who knew about the revelation, the information more than likely came from me.
Understandably the verbal attack upset her and as she was telling me this story, she started to cry.
At the time when I was talking to her I told her that I didn't reveal the information but as I sat and pondered afterward, there is no way that the information didn't come from me.
And that was some low down gut bucket bullshit.
My mama taught me better. There are no excuses for my actions.
Then I started to ponder a little bit more.
I was (and am) totally in the wrong.
But I get a knock at the door when her feelings are hurt? Hot tempers and words said in haste are of importance only when they're directed at her?
I felt a bit of manipulation rising to the surface.
While I don't doubt that her feelings about the comment were real and sincere, don't go getting all concerned about civility when some of the shit you've been throwing at the fan splatters back on you.
Clearly the animosity directed toward her by some members of our little association wern't by accident.
When you talk crazy to people and let your temper get the better of you, that's bound to have some ramifications in the long run.
My question is can we build a bridge, get over ourselves and be able to conduct association business?
Only time will tell.
Imagine my surprise when I saw The Teacher on the other side.
Neighborly feelings have been in short supply since the bad neighbor dustup in the fall of '08.
While I was sorely tempted to walk away from the door, I answered it with a noticeable attitude.
And before everyone gets pissy, please note that I've gone across the hall and knocked on my neighbor's door only to hear someone come to the door, see them peep out the peephole and hear them walk away.
I'm just trying to give you all some background, but I digress.
So there we were, face to face.
The Teacher proceeded to briefly tell me what had been said in the condo board meeting; some of which was directed at her.
I was taken aback not only at the highly personal nature of the barb but the fact that since I was only one of two people who knew about the revelation, the information more than likely came from me.
Understandably the verbal attack upset her and as she was telling me this story, she started to cry.
At the time when I was talking to her I told her that I didn't reveal the information but as I sat and pondered afterward, there is no way that the information didn't come from me.
And that was some low down gut bucket bullshit.
My mama taught me better. There are no excuses for my actions.
Then I started to ponder a little bit more.
I was (and am) totally in the wrong.
But I get a knock at the door when her feelings are hurt? Hot tempers and words said in haste are of importance only when they're directed at her?
I felt a bit of manipulation rising to the surface.
While I don't doubt that her feelings about the comment were real and sincere, don't go getting all concerned about civility when some of the shit you've been throwing at the fan splatters back on you.
Clearly the animosity directed toward her by some members of our little association wern't by accident.
When you talk crazy to people and let your temper get the better of you, that's bound to have some ramifications in the long run.
My question is can we build a bridge, get over ourselves and be able to conduct association business?
Only time will tell.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Things Fall Apart, The Drama
The battle lines were drawn.
Hackles were raised.
It was only a matter of time before a match dropped into this powder keg of hurt feelings and bruised emotions.
Boy howdy, did it ever.
From what I understand thinly veiled accusation were made about the handling of association finances. The bait was taken and that led to a personal attack against the individual who voiced the thinly veiled accusation.
And so on and so forth.
It got ugly. Real ugly. Real quick.
Aside from the childishness of such an exchange, comments like that had (and have) no place in any association meeting.
I get that you may not have the warmest feelings toward your neighbor but if I could sit next to my developer when he chose to come to meetings and not loose my shit; then everyone else can grin and bear it.
Moreover, personal attacks and bickering mean that association business can't get done. If business can't get done we can't move forward on several important topics that need our immediate attention.
Such as a fellow owner who doesn't see fit to pay their assessments.
And when I say not paying their assessments, I don't mean not slowly paying because your unemployed like me.
I mean not paying because they "don't understand what assessments are for."
I'm not sure if it occurred to anyone within this little melodrama that the fires of animosity may be actively stoked to throw the scent off other outstanding business.
And when I say outstanding business I mean delinquent assessments.
What bothers me the most is that a confidence that was entrusted to me was one of those extremely personal zingers exposed at that meeting.
While I don't remember ever repeating this confidence, after the incident was brought to my attention and much thought, it is unlikely that the information came from anyone else.
Plus my name was brought up as the source of the information.
That's how you know this shit is running deep.
I've been privileged to be entrusted with a great deal of information from many people.
And as relationships tend to go, sometimes you have disagreements big or small with your peeps.
But I've managed to keep the lid on where several bodies are buried despite pissing someone off or being pissed off. It's important that people vent. As the saying goes, no man (or woman) is an island.
Unless you're under subpoena, you need to keep the highly personal stuff out of the gossip mill.
That's how crazy all of this has gotten.
Now I'm telling tales out of school.
Hackles were raised.
It was only a matter of time before a match dropped into this powder keg of hurt feelings and bruised emotions.
Boy howdy, did it ever.
From what I understand thinly veiled accusation were made about the handling of association finances. The bait was taken and that led to a personal attack against the individual who voiced the thinly veiled accusation.
And so on and so forth.
It got ugly. Real ugly. Real quick.
Aside from the childishness of such an exchange, comments like that had (and have) no place in any association meeting.
I get that you may not have the warmest feelings toward your neighbor but if I could sit next to my developer when he chose to come to meetings and not loose my shit; then everyone else can grin and bear it.
Moreover, personal attacks and bickering mean that association business can't get done. If business can't get done we can't move forward on several important topics that need our immediate attention.
Such as a fellow owner who doesn't see fit to pay their assessments.
And when I say not paying their assessments, I don't mean not slowly paying because your unemployed like me.
I mean not paying because they "don't understand what assessments are for."
I'm not sure if it occurred to anyone within this little melodrama that the fires of animosity may be actively stoked to throw the scent off other outstanding business.
And when I say outstanding business I mean delinquent assessments.
What bothers me the most is that a confidence that was entrusted to me was one of those extremely personal zingers exposed at that meeting.
While I don't remember ever repeating this confidence, after the incident was brought to my attention and much thought, it is unlikely that the information came from anyone else.
Plus my name was brought up as the source of the information.
That's how you know this shit is running deep.
I've been privileged to be entrusted with a great deal of information from many people.
And as relationships tend to go, sometimes you have disagreements big or small with your peeps.
But I've managed to keep the lid on where several bodies are buried despite pissing someone off or being pissed off. It's important that people vent. As the saying goes, no man (or woman) is an island.
Unless you're under subpoena, you need to keep the highly personal stuff out of the gossip mill.
That's how crazy all of this has gotten.
Now I'm telling tales out of school.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Surprises Abound
Who knew that people who rubbed shoulders with Nobel Laureates, Rhodes Scholars and Pulitzer Prize winners even knew about the offerings of yours truly?
I might even re-read “The Closing of the American Mind” to see if I’ve changed my opinion in 22 years.
Right after I finish “The Beauty Myth.”
Just keeping it real south of the Midway---thanks for the shout out U of C.
I might even re-read “The Closing of the American Mind” to see if I’ve changed my opinion in 22 years.
Right after I finish “The Beauty Myth.”
Just keeping it real south of the Midway---thanks for the shout out U of C.
Sunday, December 06, 2009
C'mon Son!
I was in the middle of watching Law and Order Friday night when the picture went out.
Since I have Dish satellite for cable this isn't an uncommon occurrence.
If the wind blows too hard or the weather suddenly changes the dish won't pick up the signal.
Usually you give it a few minutes and the picture comes right back in.
Except on Friday.
I waited and waited and my picture never came back.
The weather seemed clear and I performed the diagnostics but no dice.
Since I had plans, I decided to pursue remedies when I returned later that evening.
When I did get on the phone with the Dish customer service representative we ran through a few more diagnostic tests with the same results.
So a service call was scheduled for Saturday.
When Luis the service technician came out he climbed up to the roof he quickly and efficiently diagnosed the problem.
My satellite dish was gone.
Some trifflin' ass motherfucker climbed on my roof---directly over my head my I add----on a dark, cold windy Chicago night and STOLE my satellite dish in the middle of Law and Order.
Ain't that a bitch?
I was completely undone. It took a day for me to calm down.
Who climbs up on your roof at night to take a flipping dish?
It turns out that despite a majority of the dish being plastic, there are some metal components that can be worth up to $15.00 on the street.
So does that mean that the thief goes around collecting dishes until he (or she) has enough scrap metal to make decent money?
Clearly we're not out of this recession if people are roof surfing for cable satellite dishes for scrap metal.
It's like I had my own personal "C'mon Son" moment.
Your ass is such a bootleg, ghetto ass criminal that you have to risk life and limb to grab dishes off peoples roofs.
Damn, player.
Normally during this time of year it's the beginning of the "jacking season."
The jacking season usually lasts from the holidays until after the tax refund anticipation loans stop.
They'll jack you for your Christmas gifts. Your purse will get cut while you're in a large crowd.
If you're foolish enough to get your taxes prepared at a Currency Exchange don't be surprised when someone sticks a gun in your face as soon as you exit.
People usually become extra cautious and take care to not draw attention to themselves.
Most people exercise using common sense and street smarts.
And until yesterday I thought I was one of those people.
Little did I know that jacking had gone three stories up.
Since I have Dish satellite for cable this isn't an uncommon occurrence.
If the wind blows too hard or the weather suddenly changes the dish won't pick up the signal.
Usually you give it a few minutes and the picture comes right back in.
Except on Friday.
I waited and waited and my picture never came back.
The weather seemed clear and I performed the diagnostics but no dice.
Since I had plans, I decided to pursue remedies when I returned later that evening.
When I did get on the phone with the Dish customer service representative we ran through a few more diagnostic tests with the same results.
So a service call was scheduled for Saturday.
When Luis the service technician came out he climbed up to the roof he quickly and efficiently diagnosed the problem.
My satellite dish was gone.
Some trifflin' ass motherfucker climbed on my roof---directly over my head my I add----on a dark, cold windy Chicago night and STOLE my satellite dish in the middle of Law and Order.
Ain't that a bitch?
I was completely undone. It took a day for me to calm down.
Who climbs up on your roof at night to take a flipping dish?
It turns out that despite a majority of the dish being plastic, there are some metal components that can be worth up to $15.00 on the street.
So does that mean that the thief goes around collecting dishes until he (or she) has enough scrap metal to make decent money?
Clearly we're not out of this recession if people are roof surfing for cable satellite dishes for scrap metal.
It's like I had my own personal "C'mon Son" moment.
Your ass is such a bootleg, ghetto ass criminal that you have to risk life and limb to grab dishes off peoples roofs.
Damn, player.
Normally during this time of year it's the beginning of the "jacking season."
The jacking season usually lasts from the holidays until after the tax refund anticipation loans stop.
They'll jack you for your Christmas gifts. Your purse will get cut while you're in a large crowd.
If you're foolish enough to get your taxes prepared at a Currency Exchange don't be surprised when someone sticks a gun in your face as soon as you exit.
People usually become extra cautious and take care to not draw attention to themselves.
Most people exercise using common sense and street smarts.
And until yesterday I thought I was one of those people.
Little did I know that jacking had gone three stories up.
Monday, November 23, 2009
On The Come Up, Garden Edition
I was waiting for the bus last week and happened to look over towards the community garden and saw new structures on the property.
Now that the leaves are off the trees you can easily see the garden from Stony Island.
Naturally, I trotted over there a few days later and this is what I saw:
We now have a new pergola that will be catching rain water for collection in one of several barrels AND provide shade.
As you can see, they kept the old one. It's just in another part of the garden.
There is also a new sturdily constructed storage shed.
You know it's quality when you see the nice Amish people hammering away.
Out of all of the odd sights I've seen on the south side, none was odder than the Amish rolling through the 'hood.
Perhaps other business people will take note. The Amish will go anywhere they can make money. They don't judge a neighborhood by marketing and sales projections and put out a quality product.
Plus I've been angling to get one of those white caps for my hair when I garden.
Nonetheless, the garden looks even better, cleanup day is tomorrow AND I hear that we're getting a new fence in the spring.
Now if we could only get rid of those flipping Japanesse beatles.
Now that the leaves are off the trees you can easily see the garden from Stony Island.
Naturally, I trotted over there a few days later and this is what I saw:
We now have a new pergola that will be catching rain water for collection in one of several barrels AND provide shade.
As you can see, they kept the old one. It's just in another part of the garden.
There is also a new sturdily constructed storage shed.
You know it's quality when you see the nice Amish people hammering away.
Out of all of the odd sights I've seen on the south side, none was odder than the Amish rolling through the 'hood.
Perhaps other business people will take note. The Amish will go anywhere they can make money. They don't judge a neighborhood by marketing and sales projections and put out a quality product.
Plus I've been angling to get one of those white caps for my hair when I garden.
Nonetheless, the garden looks even better, cleanup day is tomorrow AND I hear that we're getting a new fence in the spring.
Now if we could only get rid of those flipping Japanesse beatles.
Monday, October 26, 2009
How Facebook Saved My Ass, Part 2 or How The Collegiate Mafia Came Through Once Again
My recent mortgage foolishness has been a thorn in my side.
And that's putting it mildly.
For those of you who have been reading for quite some time, you know the past few years haven't been paradise.
Jesus take the wheel.
But as we all know, bad things happen to good people everyday. And in some cases, really, really bad things happen to really, really good people.
So in the grand scheme of things, my issues were (are?) a cake walk.
No one was bleeding, I could stil feed myself and I had a roof over my head.
Now my mortgage servicer was trying to affect the later.
Obviously, I was upset.
One of my dear friends who is a regular reader of this blog suggested that I contact a mutual friend of ours who might be in a position to offer some advice.
She also mentioned that she recently reconnected with her on Facebook.
At this point, the situation was (is?) dire----what did I have to lose?
So I reached out to our friend after many years.
I felt a little awkward as we haven't spoken in for some time but have many friends in common from our college days.
So I took a chance.
After a round of phone tag, we spoke and I explained my situation.
It's not that I want to antagonize Select Portfolio Servicing but I failed to understand why there was such a glaring hole in the Obama plan.
But don't get me on that soap box right now.
Let's just suffice it to say, I pray you all don't lose your jobs, run through your severance and savings.
Unless you're the auto industry or banking, let's just say your bailout options are severely limited.
But I digress...
Within hours, my friend received my information via e-mail and said that she would see what she could do.
Two days later, I received a much more sympathetic phone call from my mortgage servicer.
Now they wanted to give me "options."
To quote the late great Dinah Washington, "What a difference a day makes."
I wouldn't have been given "options" without the suggestion of my friend who in turn found our other friend on Facebook.
That's when I started to think, there actually might be something to this little thing.
So I had to check it out.
While my college network may not have as much prestige at The Northwestern Mafia, I may be able to argue that they aren't any less influential.
And that's putting it mildly.
For those of you who have been reading for quite some time, you know the past few years haven't been paradise.
Jesus take the wheel.
But as we all know, bad things happen to good people everyday. And in some cases, really, really bad things happen to really, really good people.
So in the grand scheme of things, my issues were (are?) a cake walk.
No one was bleeding, I could stil feed myself and I had a roof over my head.
Now my mortgage servicer was trying to affect the later.
Obviously, I was upset.
One of my dear friends who is a regular reader of this blog suggested that I contact a mutual friend of ours who might be in a position to offer some advice.
She also mentioned that she recently reconnected with her on Facebook.
At this point, the situation was (is?) dire----what did I have to lose?
So I reached out to our friend after many years.
I felt a little awkward as we haven't spoken in for some time but have many friends in common from our college days.
So I took a chance.
After a round of phone tag, we spoke and I explained my situation.
It's not that I want to antagonize Select Portfolio Servicing but I failed to understand why there was such a glaring hole in the Obama plan.
But don't get me on that soap box right now.
Let's just suffice it to say, I pray you all don't lose your jobs, run through your severance and savings.
Unless you're the auto industry or banking, let's just say your bailout options are severely limited.
But I digress...
Within hours, my friend received my information via e-mail and said that she would see what she could do.
Two days later, I received a much more sympathetic phone call from my mortgage servicer.
Now they wanted to give me "options."
To quote the late great Dinah Washington, "What a difference a day makes."
I wouldn't have been given "options" without the suggestion of my friend who in turn found our other friend on Facebook.
That's when I started to think, there actually might be something to this little thing.
So I had to check it out.
While my college network may not have as much prestige at The Northwestern Mafia, I may be able to argue that they aren't any less influential.
Friday, October 23, 2009
How Facebook Saved My Ass
I relentlessly mocked Facebook and my friends who lived and died by their "status."
As much as I've revealed over the past four years on this blog, I don't believe that my life is so interesting that you really care what I'm doing every minute of every day.
Plus you can't have all of your business out in the street.
You'd hear about these foolish children posting salacious details about their activities along provocative pictures and wonder why their admission offer to their number one college was suddenly revoked.
As a small aside, I'm glad camera phones and Facebook wasn't around in the early nineties.
Let's just say, my options for running for political office would be even more limited.
Sweet Baby Jesus.
Plus I felt at 41, Facebook wasn't exactly for generation X.
Hordes of Gen Xer's constantly updating Facebook on their iphones seemed (and seems) a little silly.
So I dug my heels in and stubbornly refused to drink the Kool Aid.
That is until a close friend had a great idea.
As much as I've revealed over the past four years on this blog, I don't believe that my life is so interesting that you really care what I'm doing every minute of every day.
Plus you can't have all of your business out in the street.
You'd hear about these foolish children posting salacious details about their activities along provocative pictures and wonder why their admission offer to their number one college was suddenly revoked.
As a small aside, I'm glad camera phones and Facebook wasn't around in the early nineties.
Let's just say, my options for running for political office would be even more limited.
Sweet Baby Jesus.
Plus I felt at 41, Facebook wasn't exactly for generation X.
Hordes of Gen Xer's constantly updating Facebook on their iphones seemed (and seems) a little silly.
So I dug my heels in and stubbornly refused to drink the Kool Aid.
That is until a close friend had a great idea.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
The Blueprint
When I got the news that I was rejected from the Home Affordable Mortgage Program I was really, really upset.
To the point of tears.
And, might I add, a little hysterical.
For those of you who are long time readers of this blog, you'll remember that it took me 11 long months to find another job after my layoff from my previous employer of 9 years.
Usually foreclosures start at or around the 90 day mark.
We've had five in our association over the years so I've been at ground zero and am somewhat familiar with the process.
While it can take over a year, once it starts you either have to have a pile of money fall out the sky to stop it or sell your home.
Right now, neither is not a viable option. Who in the good Lord's name is going to rent to someone who dosen't have a job? Even the best do gooder liberal has bills to pay in these uncertain economic times.
I know very few people who can subsidize others right now.
So I knew that I'd have to help myself.
When I calmed down, dried my tears and had a few glasses of wine, I crafted this letter:
I just received a letter from my mortgage servicer letting me know that I DIDN'T qualify for the Home Affordable Modification Program AND due to my unemployment the the principal and interest that I can pay is unacceptable to the mortgage servicer.
What does this mean?
It means that as of the end of October, my mortgage goes back up to it's original payment (I was on a modification plan for $XXX) of $X,XXX.
I bring in whopping $X,XXX a month on unemployment and whatever I make at my waitressing job (usually under $XXX a month).
My lender said that they can't work with me on another loan modification program until I get a job to provide sufficient income.
I have never heard something so ass backwards in my life. At this point, I stand a very real chance of being foreclosed on.
When you hear about the program, you're under the impression that it's set up to help.
You lose your job through no fault of your own and you want to do right and keep your house, so you report your change in situation to your lender.
Huge mistake.
At this point honesty---for me at least---has not been the best policy.
It seems that the Treasury Department didn't plan for people having problems with their mortgage due to unemployment rather than being "upside down" in their mortgages. A part of the letter reads:
"The reason you do not qualify is that you did not pass the U.S. Treasury Department's Net Present Value (NPV) Test. The NPV test determined that the amount realized by sale of your property following foreclosure exceeds the amount that would be obtained through a modification of your mortgage."
I thought the point of the program was to keep people in their homes?
Call me at (XXX) XXX-XXXX if you'd like to discuss the situation further.
I seriously don't know what I'm going to do.
Sincerely,
The Woodlawn Wonder
I sent the letter to President Obama, Senator Richard Durbin, Congressman Bobby Rush, State Senator Kwame Raoul and State Representative Barbara Flynn Currie last Monday, October 12th.
Oh yeah, and a few members of the press.
Since it was a legal holiday I knew I wouldn't hear from anyone for a couple of days. Nonetheless, on Wednesday I went ahead and did some follow up.
I was pleasantly surprised at the progress I made and also received a game changing suggestion.
To the point of tears.
And, might I add, a little hysterical.
For those of you who are long time readers of this blog, you'll remember that it took me 11 long months to find another job after my layoff from my previous employer of 9 years.
Usually foreclosures start at or around the 90 day mark.
We've had five in our association over the years so I've been at ground zero and am somewhat familiar with the process.
While it can take over a year, once it starts you either have to have a pile of money fall out the sky to stop it or sell your home.
Right now, neither is not a viable option. Who in the good Lord's name is going to rent to someone who dosen't have a job? Even the best do gooder liberal has bills to pay in these uncertain economic times.
I know very few people who can subsidize others right now.
So I knew that I'd have to help myself.
When I calmed down, dried my tears and had a few glasses of wine, I crafted this letter:
I just received a letter from my mortgage servicer letting me know that I DIDN'T qualify for the Home Affordable Modification Program AND due to my unemployment the the principal and interest that I can pay is unacceptable to the mortgage servicer.
What does this mean?
It means that as of the end of October, my mortgage goes back up to it's original payment (I was on a modification plan for $XXX) of $X,XXX.
I bring in whopping $X,XXX a month on unemployment and whatever I make at my waitressing job (usually under $XXX a month).
My lender said that they can't work with me on another loan modification program until I get a job to provide sufficient income.
I have never heard something so ass backwards in my life. At this point, I stand a very real chance of being foreclosed on.
When you hear about the program, you're under the impression that it's set up to help.
You lose your job through no fault of your own and you want to do right and keep your house, so you report your change in situation to your lender.
Huge mistake.
At this point honesty---for me at least---has not been the best policy.
It seems that the Treasury Department didn't plan for people having problems with their mortgage due to unemployment rather than being "upside down" in their mortgages. A part of the letter reads:
"The reason you do not qualify is that you did not pass the U.S. Treasury Department's Net Present Value (NPV) Test. The NPV test determined that the amount realized by sale of your property following foreclosure exceeds the amount that would be obtained through a modification of your mortgage."
I thought the point of the program was to keep people in their homes?
Call me at (XXX) XXX-XXXX if you'd like to discuss the situation further.
I seriously don't know what I'm going to do.
Sincerely,
The Woodlawn Wonder
I sent the letter to President Obama, Senator Richard Durbin, Congressman Bobby Rush, State Senator Kwame Raoul and State Representative Barbara Flynn Currie last Monday, October 12th.
Oh yeah, and a few members of the press.
Since it was a legal holiday I knew I wouldn't hear from anyone for a couple of days. Nonetheless, on Wednesday I went ahead and did some follow up.
I was pleasantly surprised at the progress I made and also received a game changing suggestion.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Well Shut The Front Door
You are not gonna believe the phone call I just got from Select Portfolio Servicing.
Un-flipping-believeable.
More later.
Un-flipping-believeable.
More later.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Not Backing Down
You know do know that I'm not going to let this Select Portfolio foolishness happen without a fight?
I have a pretty good idea of what's going to happen next but I'm in the process of getting my ducks in a row.
Let's see what one determined woman can do.
Game on.
I have a pretty good idea of what's going to happen next but I'm in the process of getting my ducks in a row.
Let's see what one determined woman can do.
Game on.
Friday, October 09, 2009
Rejected
I just received this in the mail from my lender:
Dear Borrower:
Select Portfolio Servicing, Inc. (SPS), as a servicer for your loan, has reviewed your account for the Obama Administration's Home Affordable Modification Program (HAMP). We regret that we are unable to qualify you for HAMP based on the information you provided to us. The reason you do not qualify is that you did not pass the U.S. Treasury Department's Net Present Value (NPV) test. The NPV test determined that the amount realized by sale of your property following foreclosure exceeds the amount that would be obtained through a modification of your mortgage.
Words absolutely fail me at this time.
I very well could be looking at foreclosure in the next few months.
Developing...
Dear Borrower:
Select Portfolio Servicing, Inc. (SPS), as a servicer for your loan, has reviewed your account for the Obama Administration's Home Affordable Modification Program (HAMP). We regret that we are unable to qualify you for HAMP based on the information you provided to us. The reason you do not qualify is that you did not pass the U.S. Treasury Department's Net Present Value (NPV) test. The NPV test determined that the amount realized by sale of your property following foreclosure exceeds the amount that would be obtained through a modification of your mortgage.
Words absolutely fail me at this time.
I very well could be looking at foreclosure in the next few months.
Developing...
Monday, September 21, 2009
Finished?
I noticed something interesting when I was walking down the alley the other day.
What? You don't walk down the alley on your block?
How else will you know what's really going on in your neighborhood?
Anyhoo...
I was walking down the alley and noticed that the back windows of the newly renovated apartment building are covered in plywood.
The openings where the back doors should be are covered in plywood as well.
It appears that someone from the inside may not be able to exit to the back porch.
How in God's name can you rent apartments to tenants and not have another way out of the building in case of an emergency?
That ain't right and that ain't safe.
Moreover, that doesn't sound legal.
What? You don't walk down the alley on your block?
How else will you know what's really going on in your neighborhood?
Anyhoo...
I was walking down the alley and noticed that the back windows of the newly renovated apartment building are covered in plywood.
The openings where the back doors should be are covered in plywood as well.
It appears that someone from the inside may not be able to exit to the back porch.
How in God's name can you rent apartments to tenants and not have another way out of the building in case of an emergency?
That ain't right and that ain't safe.
Moreover, that doesn't sound legal.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Clearly It's Not The Rabbits We Need To Worry About
Per my Tweet from yesterday, some jackasses are going into the garden and stealing produce.
That's just plain out and out bullshit.
The only leeway I'd give would be if someone's hungry but even then I'd rather you ask me for my tomatoes than find them used in an impromptu food fight.
Just a gut feeling after seeing the remains of ripened tomatoes all over the garden.
If you remember part three of my Yo Chicago interview on You Tube, you'll see a glimpse of my tomato plant which only had about five tomatoes on it vs. fifteen from the week before.
So much for tomato, mozzarella and basil salad.
That's just plain out and out bullshit.
The only leeway I'd give would be if someone's hungry but even then I'd rather you ask me for my tomatoes than find them used in an impromptu food fight.
Just a gut feeling after seeing the remains of ripened tomatoes all over the garden.
If you remember part three of my Yo Chicago interview on You Tube, you'll see a glimpse of my tomato plant which only had about five tomatoes on it vs. fifteen from the week before.
So much for tomato, mozzarella and basil salad.
Thursday, September 03, 2009
Giving Up The Ghost
The last time I wrote about Carlton Knight’s Dixie Highway property, the day to day operations had been taken over by a court appointed Receiver in December of 2007.
The Receiver really gave it a go.
Rents were collected and recommendations for repairs were made.
Some tenants were evicted, some were moved to other units and others continued to live in their current situation.
Make no mistake, the condition of the building was (and is) dismal.
But sometimes, no matter how much you want to make it happen, you’ve got to give up the ghost.
From the 13th report:
“We had come to the conclusion that given the condition of the property and the limited income we were receiving, it was better to vacate the property rather than keeping only a handful of paying tenants, which would have resulted in an operating deficit of at least $4,000/month.”
Holy Crap.
Even with loads of money the Receiver and Inland Bank couldn’t make that dog hunt.
I guess you need to know when to throw in the towel.
But the scary part is that the property didn’t get that way overnight.
At least that what the Receiver’s first and second reports said.
Do not make me detail the contents of reports three through twelve.
It’s just too jaw dropping.
And to think, people had to live in those conditions.
It just makes you shake your head.
The Receiver really gave it a go.
Rents were collected and recommendations for repairs were made.
Some tenants were evicted, some were moved to other units and others continued to live in their current situation.
Make no mistake, the condition of the building was (and is) dismal.
But sometimes, no matter how much you want to make it happen, you’ve got to give up the ghost.
From the 13th report:
“We had come to the conclusion that given the condition of the property and the limited income we were receiving, it was better to vacate the property rather than keeping only a handful of paying tenants, which would have resulted in an operating deficit of at least $4,000/month.”
Holy Crap.
Even with loads of money the Receiver and Inland Bank couldn’t make that dog hunt.
I guess you need to know when to throw in the towel.
But the scary part is that the property didn’t get that way overnight.
At least that what the Receiver’s first and second reports said.
Do not make me detail the contents of reports three through twelve.
It’s just too jaw dropping.
And to think, people had to live in those conditions.
It just makes you shake your head.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Watership Down
Bunnies.
Their long eared, twitchy nosed, brown gray furred cuteness gently hoping along bothering no one.
That is until you plant a vegetable garden.
Then you look at them the way an anxious father looks at the boy his daughter starts dating---with a mixture of dread, fear and loathing.
I knew that the local flora and fauna thrive in our little urban-suburban paradise.
I also knew that rabbits had become a scourge of Grant Park gardens in recent years.
They cutely nibble away at the very expensive plants that both the Chicago Park District and the City put down to make our urban experience just a little bit brighter.
While this city has many issues, it’s apparently rabbit nirvana.
So much so, that the rabbit population has exploded in my neighborhood in the past few years.
I can see why they like the ‘hood; fresh water lagoons, tons of green space in two parks bridged by Midway Plaisance, few coyotes to hunt them and three urban gardens to nibble---that’s not a bad gig.
The average person takes this with a grain of salt. The average gardener would like to see Mopsy, Flopsy and Cottontail banished to an island never to return.
So it was with little surprise that I saw a young rabbit looking my way when I was walking home from the train one day.
While I hate those little buggers he was really cute with the previously mentioned twitchy nose and round furry body.
He was so young that he didn’t know that he should fear me and let me inch closer and closer.
And so this little dance continued between us over the next few weeks.
In fact I was able to get close enough to snap pictures.
But then it occurred to me that’s how they suck you in---they get you to like them, then you have a hard time putting them in a pie when they eat your collard greens.
Diabolical motherfuckers.
Elmer Fudd is my new hero. I wish I had a spear and magic helmet.
Their long eared, twitchy nosed, brown gray furred cuteness gently hoping along bothering no one.
That is until you plant a vegetable garden.
Then you look at them the way an anxious father looks at the boy his daughter starts dating---with a mixture of dread, fear and loathing.
I knew that the local flora and fauna thrive in our little urban-suburban paradise.
I also knew that rabbits had become a scourge of Grant Park gardens in recent years.
They cutely nibble away at the very expensive plants that both the Chicago Park District and the City put down to make our urban experience just a little bit brighter.
While this city has many issues, it’s apparently rabbit nirvana.
So much so, that the rabbit population has exploded in my neighborhood in the past few years.
I can see why they like the ‘hood; fresh water lagoons, tons of green space in two parks bridged by Midway Plaisance, few coyotes to hunt them and three urban gardens to nibble---that’s not a bad gig.
The average person takes this with a grain of salt. The average gardener would like to see Mopsy, Flopsy and Cottontail banished to an island never to return.
So it was with little surprise that I saw a young rabbit looking my way when I was walking home from the train one day.
While I hate those little buggers he was really cute with the previously mentioned twitchy nose and round furry body.
He was so young that he didn’t know that he should fear me and let me inch closer and closer.
And so this little dance continued between us over the next few weeks.
In fact I was able to get close enough to snap pictures.
But then it occurred to me that’s how they suck you in---they get you to like them, then you have a hard time putting them in a pie when they eat your collard greens.
Diabolical motherfuckers.
Elmer Fudd is my new hero. I wish I had a spear and magic helmet.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Bullshit
Per my Twitter post, the parties at the Metropolitan still continue.
You know the thing that absolutely kills me?
Is that these parties wouldn’t happen if this facility was located in Hyde Park.
Or even next to Rev. Finney’s home.
For those of you who don't know, the Metropolitan is housed in the former Christ Apostolic Church which moved to Bronzeville several years ago. Public records indicate that the building is still owned by the The Woodlawn Organization which is closely identified with the good Reverend.
I’ll bet money that if this foolishness happened in his neighborhood, that his neighbors would have him tarred and feathered.
Yet for the sake of the almighty dollar, my block has to play host to groups of people who cannot seemingly act like respectful human beings.
Kind readers, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again---Whoever is booking these parties is courting disaster in so many ways it boggles the mind.
This facility is a lawsuit waiting to happen.
Security and/or supervision are non-existent.
Seemingly anyone who has the money can rent the facility.
Guidelines---What’s that?
It also seems that a majority of the groups that patronize the Metropolitan also attract a crowd that believes it’s a good idea to throw their empty liquor bottles and trash on the parkway.
Saturday morning the ‘hood looked green and pastoral, Sunday morning it looked like unadulterated shit.
It looked like a trash hurricane rolled through this bitch and deposited every liquor and beer bottle advertised on billboards saturating this side of town.
Now you would think that Mt. Carmel’s lawn crew would pick up the trash as they mow the lawn.
Unfortunately that is not the case.
Instead of picking up the trash, they simply throw it in the street compounding the problem.
Bottles break, gutters are blocked with debris, when it rains the street becomes a swamp.
Delightful. Simply fucking delightful.
So the question is this: Rev. Finney, why is this allowed to happen?
Oh yeah---
Have someone pickup the trash that is all over the Metropolitan’s lawn. It looks horrible.
You know the thing that absolutely kills me?
Is that these parties wouldn’t happen if this facility was located in Hyde Park.
Or even next to Rev. Finney’s home.
For those of you who don't know, the Metropolitan is housed in the former Christ Apostolic Church which moved to Bronzeville several years ago. Public records indicate that the building is still owned by the The Woodlawn Organization which is closely identified with the good Reverend.
I’ll bet money that if this foolishness happened in his neighborhood, that his neighbors would have him tarred and feathered.
Yet for the sake of the almighty dollar, my block has to play host to groups of people who cannot seemingly act like respectful human beings.
Kind readers, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again---Whoever is booking these parties is courting disaster in so many ways it boggles the mind.
This facility is a lawsuit waiting to happen.
Security and/or supervision are non-existent.
Seemingly anyone who has the money can rent the facility.
Guidelines---What’s that?
It also seems that a majority of the groups that patronize the Metropolitan also attract a crowd that believes it’s a good idea to throw their empty liquor bottles and trash on the parkway.
Saturday morning the ‘hood looked green and pastoral, Sunday morning it looked like unadulterated shit.
It looked like a trash hurricane rolled through this bitch and deposited every liquor and beer bottle advertised on billboards saturating this side of town.
Now you would think that Mt. Carmel’s lawn crew would pick up the trash as they mow the lawn.
Unfortunately that is not the case.
Instead of picking up the trash, they simply throw it in the street compounding the problem.
Bottles break, gutters are blocked with debris, when it rains the street becomes a swamp.
Delightful. Simply fucking delightful.
So the question is this: Rev. Finney, why is this allowed to happen?
Oh yeah---
Have someone pickup the trash that is all over the Metropolitan’s lawn. It looks horrible.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Heavy Sigh
Frank (or one of his relatives)has decimated the flowers on the back porch.
My refrigerator just died yesterday.
This is on top of the huge vet bill AND the unemployment countdown.
Do not be surprised when the Paypal tip jar appears in the sidebar---it's coming.
My refrigerator just died yesterday.
This is on top of the huge vet bill AND the unemployment countdown.
Do not be surprised when the Paypal tip jar appears in the sidebar---it's coming.
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