scratch that, it was more like a volcano

It's been a lively two days in condoland, blog buddies. The long and short of it: My condo almost slipped through my grasp. The horror, the horror.

As you may recall from Co-op Wars: Episode 1, I am required to interview with the co-op board so they can judge me and condescend to me and make sure I am fit to live among them. Well, as we approach my settlement date NEXT THURSDAY, I have been hounding people, trying to get this interview scheduled and done so I can focus on more important things, like picking paint colors and egging their cars.

So I finally get the secretary on the phone on Wednesday, and she patches me over to the general manager, who, during the three times I have spoken with him, HAS NEVER FAILED TO PERSONALLY OFFEND ME. So you can imagine how excited I am to be having this conversation. Cue sour look on my face. Just as I start talking, he speaks:

"So I'm looking at your income, and I'm wondering, are there some pages missing? How are you planning to afford this?"

I grit my teeth and explain to him that I have a secondary income that I'll be using, and I don't anticipate a problem at all.

"Oh. Well, where will the condo fees be coming from? Your mother as well, I assume?"

No, asshole, I think I can manage an extra few hundred. But thanks for your support.

"Well, we're going to need another page explaining all of this, and then we can get you set up for an interview."

OK, well, I'm closing next Thursday, and I need that interview before then, and is that going to be a problem?

"You're closing on Thursday? Well, we will try as hard as we can, but the real estate agent should never have scheduled a closing before speaking to the cooperative." And he said "cooperative" in the snootiest voice possible, like he was trying to make it sound French and British and Vanderbilt at the same time.

Well, I had these papers in at least two weeks ago, and thought I would have gotten a call by then to schedule something, which is why I have been badgering the secretary all week.

"Well, we'll try our best." Click.

Two days -- and RIDICULOUS amounts of stress and screaming later -- I have e-mailed my banker at least 10 times and refigured my payments so everyone is convinced I can make the payments.

And all so I can spend the next three years trying my very best to avoid this man in the hallways.

Is it worth it? I hope so.

It's pretty much over now, and the closing is still on, and I am relieved. But it's funny how my bank, to whom I will owe DOUBLE the amount of the stupid cooperative fees every month, is not making me want to tear my hair out. They seem convinced I won't decide to go all '50s housewife and abandon everything to live in a commune. So what the hell is the matter with these people?

I have a theory: This building is older, and the residents are settled, and the chance for the "general manager" and "vice president of membership" to invoke their powers of authority only comes along every couple of months, at most. So they jump at the chance to stress someone out. The younger, the better, because I don't have the confidence to say, "You know what? You're being a huge dick right now, and it's so unnecessary. It's a waste of time, energy and resources." (Think of all the trees I wasted, printing out new fax cover sheets every few hours!)

"So can we just agree that your balls are bigger than mine, you can piss farther than me, etc, etc, etc. I'm just done with the hassle."

This place better be worth it.