Thursday, April 25, 2013

Spring is in the air.  The leaves are bursting forth from budded twigs on the trees.  Flowers are displaying their brilliant and vibrant colors.  Birds are chirping melodious sonnets.  And the rays from the sun are dispersing thick clouds, casting them to the Olympic and Cascade mountain regions.

I enjoy days like these.  I can relate to the rain and tolerate it, being thankful for it even.  That is until it puddles on the roof of this three-story one-hundred-year-old building, causing occasional leak damage to a roof or a wall of a rented apartment.  You see, I prefer the warm, pleasant temperatures that allow me to walk about without the need to don a jacket or overcoat.  As long as the temperatures stay no higher than the low nineties, I'm content.  Otherwise I'm overwhelmed with the feeling of dread and discomfort.  Sure, I can exist in it.  My heart will still beat and I can still breathe (barely, it seems, though that's an extreme exaggeration).  Yet unless there's somewhat of a cool breeze, one might find me indoors with the fans running.  One might also find me with a cold, wet cloth either on my forehead or on the top of my head itself, giving aid to the heat the escapes from my cranium.  That is my comfort zone.  It may appear silly to someone else, but at least I'm comfortable.

I'm half Welsh and half Scottish.  That means my skin is a pale and pasty white.  If I were a superhero, my skin would be my superpower, blinding others if the sun were to hit it just right.  But if it were a cloudy or rainy day, I fear I would be succumbed to the taunts and torments of my ever-present, ever-awaiting enemies (whomever they might be).  One time it occurred to me that perhaps I could get a spray tan so as to "fit in" and "look good."  I shared that thought with my partner, Steven.  His response put a dampner on the whole idea: "Right.  A welshman with a tan.  That makes a lot of sense."  I knew straight away he was right.  Dammit.  Oh, well.  With my luck, I'd probably come out of it looking like some sort of deranged Oompa Loompa wandering about, asking, "Have you seen Willy Wonka?"

Work is going well.  I was only half-surprised to have learned the building didn't sell.  The man interested in purchasing Parkside seemed to have lost interest toward the end of the thorough inspection.  I can't say that I blame him, really.  If I were the owner of this apartment building and really wanted to sell it, I'd have replaced the worn carpet in the lobbies and stairways, either re-sealed or replaced the existing roof entirely as throughout the years layer after layer was applied without having ever torn out the existing one, and I'd have replaced the antique-looking, aged, cheap light fixtures.  Sure, it's an old building and having old-style light fixtures makes sense.  But cheap and rickety, certainly not.  I'd also complete certain flooring in living spaces so that rugs wouldn't be needed to cover the pressboard currently filling those spaces (why it's like that, I have absolutely no idea... but it kills an opportunity to rent an apartment just about every time).

Parkside Apartments is a charming building.  It truly is.  I love it here, especially with its location being directly across the street from Wright Park and conveniently located within walking distance to various shoppes, restaurants, pubs, an indepently run movie theater, our veterinarian, grocery shopping, bus lines, downtown, and so much more.  The three-story brick H-shaped building with its grand entrance makes people feel as though they're in the historic Stadium Distric of Tacoma, which they are.  The building just needs some cosmetic work done, that's all.

Presently, all 28 of the one-bedroom and two-bedroom apartments of this building are occupied.  Two will become available soon, but I already have people interested in those units and I haven't even shown them yet.  However, because of the market value, property taxes, and whatnot, I will be increasing the rent of ten different units.  This could be bad, but it could also be good.  It could be bad because I could lose good tenants, but it could be good because the rent is only being increased by $50.00 for the most part and it could mean I'd lose tenants of whom I don't really care to have here anyway; tenants who tend to bend or break the rules, who consistently pay rent late, who tend to have repetitive maintenance issues caused by they themselves, or who are just flat out messy.  I've mentioned this idea via e-mail to both my boss as well as to the owners of the building and that I intend for the rent increase to be effective come the first of June.  The owners are okay with the idea, but I have yet to hear from my boss.  I mentioned to him that because I'd want to give the tenants at least a month's notice of the rent increase, I'd want to hear from him soon.  I suppose I should have either defined the word, "soon," or I should have been more clear as to when I'd appreciate a response from him.

I've been manager here for nine months.  In that time, I've been to three mandatory training meetings, two of which had absolutely nothing to do with my line of work.  It's my opinion that if I don't do construction or electric work, then I don't need to attend safety classes regarding such.  I appreciate the safety manuel of which I received at the first meeting, but to attend a class of which the self-proclaimed inexperienced speaker refused to use the microphone which caused most of his words to fall on deaf ears and then end his whatever-it-was with, "I know this subject doesn't fall in line with the work that a lot of you do, but read the safety manuel because that's what's it's there for,".... really?!?  I could have read it in my own office instead of sitting on the bus for an hour to travel to Seattle, eat a provided "lunch" that was less appealing than that of a meal I'd get on a plane, sit in a one-and-a-half-hour meeting that entailed a meaningless topic that had nothing to do with my profession or title, and then sit on the bus again for yet another hour heading home.  That was a complete waste of my day.

Sometimes it's as if the only moments my boss actually gives a damn about what I do is when I make a mistake.  The corporate office located in Seattle.  That's where he is.  He oversees where the money is going, who gets hired and where, and what policies are being followed and what aren't.  Too many times, however, the perception I get is that he, his assistant and the company care only about what other properties are doing.  When it comes to properties that are located an hour or further away, well... who cares?  It's unimportant.  Again, that's the perception.  I look at it that way because of many reasons, one being that up until two or three weeks ago neither my boss nor his assistant made a visit to this property since before Christmas of last year.  That is against what the owners requested.  The owners, a wonderful husband and wife team in their sixties, requested monthly visits of which has yet to take place.

At the last business meeting I attended up in Seattle there was a correspondence sheet for those in attendance to fill out.  Questions were asked such as, "Did you like the speaker?", "Was the meeting at a good time and day for you?", "How was the lunch?", and, my favorite, "Is there anything you would like discussed at a future training meeting?"  I was so eager to answer that question.  In fact, I did.  Then, after thinking about it, I severely crossed out what I suggested because I didn't want to cause a problem (had I to do it over again, I would have left it as our names were not asked for on the sheets).  Effective communication.  It is essential in any and all relationships.  It's a pet peeve of mine.  When I was involved in the ministry and with churches, I used to teach courses on that and time management.  I was even invited to speak at seminars.  For such a lack of communication to be so commonplace in what is considered by many to be such a prestigious company having been around since the early 1940s, not only am I beside myself with bewilderment and confusion, but I'm also gobsmacked.  I talk more with the owners of the building than I do with the company I work for.  In fact, not only that, but the owners hear from me more often than they do from the company they hired to be their property managers.  I'm in contact with the owners once every one-and-a-half to two months.  For them to hear from me (someone they've known less than a year) more than they do the company (someone they've done business with for quite a few years) is, in my book, inexcusable and poor.

The owners live in Hawaii.  They will be landing in Seattle later today and will be staying for a few months in their "home away from home" as they have family in the area.  They would also like to do some remodeling work in one of the units at the Travis building (of which I managed for them along with the Parkside for six months until my boss finally found a new manager to be on-site).  I'm fully aware they'll be checking in with me from time to time.  Honestly, I can't wait to see them and eagerly look forward to our visits.  They, too, don't care for the way my boss and his assistant have been handling things (or perhaps I should say, not handled things).

Am I being disrespectful?  Just a smidge.  I lay claim to that knowing it's unappealing.  Am I right in feeling or thinking the way I do?  Yes.  I say that because I've been in and out of the apartment management business for over sixteen years and have an idea as to what works and what doesn't.  Growing up, I watched my mum and da manage apartment complexes as well.  So I learned a bit even then.  I'm thankful for where I'm at and I'm thankful for what I do.  I refuse to remain complacent in my management of an apartment building when I know full well I can lay hold of it, clean it up, change things around, and make it better than what it was before I arrived.  In the short time I've been manager of this building, that's exactly what I've done.  To be frank, I'm only mid-stride in my accomplishments and have much more to do.

That's enough for now.  Back to my work, to my life, and to the love of my life, Steven, who makes me smile and laugh each and every day.

Until next time...

Monday, April 15, 2013

Before I divulge too much into my own life and with what all has been happening lately, I want to touch briefly on the horrible incident that took place earlier today in Boston.  Two bombs exploded just as runners were crossing the finish line at the Boston Marathon.  Well over 100 injured, some quite critically, and, thus far, a couple have been killed including an 8-year old child.  When things like this happen, it saddens me.  I get bothered and often wonder what the hell is wrong with people.  What goes on in one's mind to think that inflicting pain and misery in people's lives is necessary?  I simply can't fathom it.  I don't want to.  I hear of such horrific occurrences and I, even if just for a little while, lose faith in humanity.  It makes me want to hermitize myself go live in a town with a population of no more than 1,000 people.  I don't think "hermitize" is even a word, but I think you get the general idea.  Anyway, my heart and prayers go out to all those affected by this senseless tragedy.  I can only hope and pray that one day, someday, the madness will end.

If you didn't know, I've been playing the piano and singing since I was three years of age.  I'm not perfect at it, but I will toot my own horn just a smidge and say that I'm pretty good.  I'm able to sit down at the piano and just play.  What one hears is that which being expressed from my heart.  In such cases there have been times when I've had to record the music knowing full well that I'd never be able to go back and play the music the same way again.  I also play by ear.  There have been times when I've been the preferred pianist at church crusades and whatnot because if the special speaker was going to re-route him or herself onto the chorus of a song, I'd be able to play right along, even if I had never heard the song before.

I've been ministering in music since I was a teenager.  I've traveled the west coast of the U.S. (and other states) as well as various places in the U.K.  I've recorded independent CDs of songs that I've written and even had a couple of them aired on independent radio stations.  When a church I belonged with had a half-hour program on a local TBN affiliate station, I was the singer for their episodes (that went on for about a year).  Basically, you name it, I've done it.  Not on a huge grandiose scale as most, but I'm proud of the achievements accomplishments I've made.  I will say this: no one can put a price on the impact people have have received because of the ministry God has given me and done through me by the power of His Holy Spirit.  The expression on their faces -- the looks of joy, the tears, the gratitude -- I will never forget.  There were times when I'd be at the local mall with my friends and a stranger would recognize me, come up to me and say something like, "Thank you so much for your ministry!"  On one particular occasion that happened and afterward my friend asked, "Who was that?"  To which I responded honestly, "I have no idea."

Understand this: That all happened whilst I was a closeted gay man.  I imagined myself being in a restaurant with a boyfriend, holding hands with him, and then someone coming up to me and saying, "Aren't you the guy I saw on TBN?  What are you doing?!?"  And that would devastate not only me, but my ministry as well.  Having said that, I didn't come "out" until I was in my mid-thirties.  I was even married once!  But that's another story altogether.

Anyway, I've spent the past couple of years now getting back into the ministering aspect of things: leading worship, sharing music, performing in concert, even preaching.  And all at gay-friendly churches.  It's been a few years since I've written songs of my own, and, as of late, I've been feeling those creative juices flowing.  It's a goal of mine -- a hope -- that I can be in concert again sometime in July.  When I was in concert last year, it had been almost 10 years since I had done so in a church, or anywhere else for that matter.  The feeling I had performing/ministering in music was of absolute joy.  I was incredibly thankful not just for the ability to have done so, but that God chose to move through me and share my talent and gifting to others.

I have some rehearsing to do.  I know I should have delved into sharing information about work, my relationship with Steven, and other things... and there are definitely other things to share!  But I must go rehearse.  I don't have a piano at home, so I've made arrangements to go to my church for an hour and a half just once a week (not nearly enough) and practice on the grand piano in the sanctuary.  Which is where I'm headed now.

So, this is short.  I know.  I'll make up for it soon enough.  I promise.

Until then...