I’m upfront with my biases. If a client’s experience mirrors my own to the point I’m prejudiced, I say so.
With that said, I’ll share my scheme with you; I want hot tub and pool rights. And like a cat with its little rumpus shaking in the air, I’ll wait until forever if I have to.
Recently purchased (not by me) are the cedar shake condos within walking distance from our isolated cabin. It’s their bridge we cross on our eight-minute stroll to the beach, and whose playground Evelyn and I flung a tetherball and swung on their swings earlier today.
On our walk back, standing umbrella-less was a man with a cowboy hat. Talking too loudly not be under the influence, he struck up a conversation with me and an approaching woman that turned out to be our off-the-grid neighbor Cathy and her male boxer Sam.
He quickly makes friends with Evelyn, wondering if she knows how to swim, mentioning the heated pool. Cathy jumps in, telling the man we live nearby, and aren’t staying at the condo. “We got a lot going on here,” he says, “Trying to make this a cultural experience. Consider us friends. I’m the owner’s right-hand man; if you ever need anything or anyone has something to say, you drop my name.”
I want pool rights, Adam! But I bite my tongue and store his information for later; Adam, general manager, Rich, owner.
It’s not an all-year hot tub pass yet, but it is a step closer. These things take time, remember.