‘Let’s make an agenda’, says the chairperson on debut. There follows an outpouring of personal grievances of the committee members.
The temperature of the pool, the randomness of parking habits, the dog faeces on the podium level, the butts flicked over the balcony and of course, the need to keep the levies the same as they were last year despite the price of insurance, energy, wages and every other expense ever known to a strata community having gone up. When the chairperson’s notebook page is full of issues, and all have flagged their particular pet cause, it’s time to get down to business.
An issue is selected for debate. There is no particular order to this; just the one that was mentioned first and therefore got top billing. It might be dogs. Should we have them, should we not? Should we allow only small dogs (as if small dogs don’t bark!)? If we are allowing small dogs only, what type? How do we define a small dog? Is it to be defined by height, by weight, by breed? We should put up a sign: ‘Dogs, please ensure your humans clean up after you’. It’s 9.30 pm and their is no agreement on dogs. A subcommittee is formed to look into the issue of canine behaviour and report back at the next meeting.
Another issue is attempted and the same process plays out. Its now well after 10.00 pm and everyone is exhausted. So the meeting ends and the committee stands adjourned to a date unspecified until someone thinks to call another meeting.
The minutes arrive some considerable time later and reflect, in agonising detail, the most in depth discussion ever had about canines and their impact on a group of high-rise dwellers that failed to come to any conclusion. And we wonder why more than half of the group, including the subcommittee into the behaviour of dogs, will contribute only their apologies to the next meeting.