Cheap Rich People

When I first saw my house in 2000, I fell in love. I guess it's yellow color set against lush foliage reminded me of Hemingway's house in Key West, a place I had long fantasized about living. After we moved in, I fell in love again, with the neighborhood. It's a hardwood hammock, and like living in a tropical garden. I never tire of walking through it --each day I'll see a plant, or bird, I hadn't noticed before.

Each morning when I rerieve the newspaper, I look around waiting for some stern voiced authority to kick me out. In the back of my mind, I'm trespassing on some rich guy's property.

We have a loosely constructed homeowner's association, which charges dues of $100 per year. This pays for the landscaping of the two entrances, electricity for the lights, storm cleanup, and 2 annual parties. Because of the storms of 2005, the treasurer decided to increase the dues to $125 per year, to have money on hand in case another hurricane hits, which it inevitably will.

You'd think a $25 per year bump would be meaningless to a neighborhood where homes START at $1 M. You'd be wrong.

2 residents, who happen to live in TWO million dollar houses, have objected, and demanded an accounting! The treasurer, a sweet lady who happens to be a CPA, probably spent an hour or two doing the audit, and responding to the concerns of these idiots. That prompted ANOTHER letter, and response.

I wanted to simply pay the $50 for the two malcontents, but Wifey wouldn't let me, since she knew that MY fee for this would be a drippingly sarcastic letter to the cheapskates which would probably escalate into a major feud.

When I was in law school, one of the members of our study group was the granddaughter of a very wealthy family in Miami. Linda, as I'll call her (because that's her name) lived off of a huge trust fund that came from ownership of tv stations, theatres, and the Miami Seaquarium.

The rest of us were struggling financially to put ourselves through school, and our favorite restaurant was the Blue Grotto, an Italian place on Red Road (since closed, sadly) where you could get an entire huge dinner for about $5 per person. When the bill would come, Linda would examine it closely, realize that she was the one who didn't have soup, and reduce her share by 80 cents or so.

On one occasion, I actually said "You know what, Linda? I'm buying tonight." She thanked me, walked out the door, and never reciprocated. Later on, I envisioned her getting $5 worth of quarters, spreading them on her bed, and rolling gleefully around on them, like a dog does when he finds the remains of a dead squirrel.

Years ago, I encountered another one of these beasts. D1 was a counselor at summer camp, and received thank you tips from every camper's family but one: the daughter of another heiress, whose father owns luxury car dealerships in town, and used to own a NFL team. Now, D1 surely didn't need the money, but it amazed us how creepy this woman was (she was recently featured in the paper for arguing with HER mommy over buying a $1M piece of art).

Hey --money is important, and I've spent the better part of the last 30 years preparing to and then finally learning how to make a lot of it. But, if I ever annoy my neighbors over $25 --like Pauly Walnuts would have said --'Jesus Crist! Shoot me now!"

Oh, Professor Harry P Schultz --you were proven correct again: the study of human nature is a matter of never ending fascination.