I thought it would be over with by now.
It's not.
Seven weeks ago, we embarked upon a tumultuous journey. By "we," I mean my partner and myself, along with all of our clients. We are attempting to relocate. Our place of business is up for sale.
Truth be told, I was out of town with all of our clients when it happened. My partner was left on his own for two weeks, and when I came back, there was a bright red for sale sign planted in front of our brick and mortar establishment. (I love that story. It's much better when I leave out the part where putting it on the market was a collaborative effort. It makes it seem so dramatic and disfunctional.)
Lots of people say they live at work. I actually live at work. As in: any other place in the world is out of the office. Big deal, right? Lots of people work where they live. I'm just another pro-bono live-in service provider. One of 10.2 million (out of the nearly 313 million) in the United States in 2012.
Having prospective buyers dropping by to inspect the building and grounds may not be a problem for some people. Some may not imagine that it's a problem for me (and let's face it, it's all relative...that's what I tell my clients), but it is. I used to wade through clothes (etc.) in my bedroom as a teenager. In college, it was not unusual for me to leave a pile of (clean) clothes on my bed and just sleep on top of them--until I wore them. Fortunately, I have worked on these bad habits long enough that most traces of this sloth have vanished. The only reason I mention this is to (give myself credit for the progress I've made and to) put things into perspective. Perspective is so important.
It has been a while since we sold or bought property. Things have changed. The way it works these days is the seller gets a text asking if they accept or reject a request to inspect the property at such and such time on such and such date. One can reply yes, no, or reschedule. As the property manager, I feel compelled to approve every request if humanly possible. I have approved every request except one, which I rescheduled for 30 minutes later in the day.
Looking back, I find myself wishing that I had approached the situation differently. For example, if someone had offered me a weeks-long course in applied organizational streamlining strategy, maybe I would have appreciated it more. I have sifted through most of the things that have collected during our years at this location and have either donated non-essentials, thrown them away, or stored them for later. This is what I like to call invisible work. It can take hours, but no one really notices unless it's the person who did the sorting. Not that the effects aren't noticeable, they are! Especially cumulatively. If I had approached this differently, maybe I could have published a paper.
At one point in this process, about 5 weeks ago, I had a moment of clarity. I found words to describe the effect of putting a disproportionately large part of my energy into maintaining a perfectly presentable building and grounds. Soul sucking.
I have never had the pleasure of being audited, but I found myself wondering if there are similarities. (After googling a bit to look for first person accounts of what its like, I got worried that I triggered some sort of mousetrap that will put me on a list somewhere. So I stopped.)
Yes. I get anxious every time I get a request to inspect the property. Yes, even though I know what to expect, I don't always deal with the stress productively. Yes, it has interrupted business as usual. This is one big reason I haven't been typing up client notes recently.
However! I have done so much "invisible work" that getting things in order is not nearly as stressful as before. My janitorial and staging skills have improved measurably, and the clients have added to their skill sets as well!
Speaking of the clients.
The Brunette has adopted a new preamble. "I told you!" He delivers it in his most authoritative tone whenever possible. For example, "I told you, I don't want any meat on my plate!" This after a standoff wherein he stonewalls any inquiry about any preferences for dinner. This new behavior is pretty harmless. He should figure it out on his own soon enough by observing how other english speakers use the phrase.
The Ginger? The Ginger is questioning the terms of our arrangement. He wants to know why restrictions have been placed on his ability to own and operate his own cellular device. He is challenging the established maintenance model that asks him to put time into cleaning personal space as well as shared space. He is unimpressed with the curriculum, schedule and population of his off-site socialization lab. Fortunately, he's ticklish. This provides means to "turn his frown upside down" if you will. When he has completed the program, and can appreciate the network and connections he has established with peers, he'll thank me.
And the Blonde. She is enjoying the predictability and social interaction of the off-site socialization lab (school). She has a male mentor this year who is renowned for being fun and permissive. She enjoys having someone to walk with in the mornings (the Ginger) and has had steady, mostly harmonious relationships with locals in her peer group for several months. When she returns from the lab, her stories are much less intense than last year, and that's a good thing.
Of course the clients know about the steps we have taken to relocate. They often ask if anyone has offered to buy the building. For now, the answer is "no."
