The Plot Thickens

Inasmuch as Upstairs Lady and I are creatures of habit — sit in the same seats at bingo, at the same table, I was privy to more tea on how things are going with Downstairs Lady.

I do realize that not all disabilities are obvious, but commonsense and from what I’ve observed, Downstairs Lady has not the mobility issues to justify a downstairs unit.

That same observation has not been lost on Upstairs Lady.

She wasn’t upset that she did not get the unit, saying management is keeping a list of those requesting to move from upstairs to downstairs for medical reasons and those others are ahead of her on the list.

Seems to me that the more serious cases would be moved to the top of the list, but oh well.

What upset Upstairs Lady is that no one on the list got the unit. Instead, this new neighbor was brought in from out of nowhere and given that prime real estate. Not only that, but another senior — whose name I did not recognize — and who I can’t imagine has a disability worse than Upstairs Lady that made him next in line, had already been told he could move from upstairs into that downstairs unit.

Being told the unit was his, he’d made preparations, including change of address while the unit was being cleaned. Had mail already coming to the unit then BAM!!!!, the unit was taken from him and given to this woman who came out of nowhere.

It occurred to me, and I did say to Upstairs Lady, “I suspect nepotism. I suspect that, because times are hard, rents are off the chart elsewhere, that management is bringing in friends, relatives, friends of friends”.

"I’ve had the same thought", said she and added that when she went to the office, to discuss the how and why and that she’s not observed the new resident showing any disability that would warrant her getting downstairs, she was met with rude responses, going in circle responses, and defensiveness.

Responding in circles is nothing new, and getting defensive signifies there is definitely something to hide — nepotistic hanky panky going on AND I highly suspect reverse racism as the residents being treated thusly are Caucasians.

Management is not Black — in fact, though they don't walk all over us as much as they do the Caucasians, it would not surprise me to learn they have not a single Black person working at any of their properties or at corporate, so it’s not us indulging in what looks to me to be reverse racism.

Nepotism is nothing new around here.

When that mean Nurse Ratched took over managing the complex back in 2013, she first brought in her nephew and, with obviously no prior experience, assigned him as an Assistant to our long-time amazing Maintenance Guy.

Once her nephew learned the ropes, she promoted his lazy incompetent arse to Head Maintenance Guy — making our long-time amazing Maintenance Guy his subordinate.

I guess she was hoping Amazing Maintenance Guy would quit but, when he didn’t, she fired him.

He and his wife had lived here since the building first went up, wanted to continue living here as residents, were qualified to continue living here, but Nurse Ratched would not let them sign a lease and kicked ‘em to the curb.

Next she brought in her mom, gave her a unit.

Mom is still living here and we don’t know how many other relatives or friends or friends of friends were brought in during those horrible years when Ratched was manager and are more than likely still living here.

It is what it is.

When all was said and done, my last words on the subject at bingo to Upstairs Lady was, "Things have a way of working out. It will eventually catch up to them."

Her last words were, "I hope that when they get old, they end up in a place just like this, get treated the same way they treat us".

If you will recall, inasmuch as I no longer wear my lucky shirt to bingo — because being cotton, it's beginning to stretch, feels big and clunky now, I didn’t expect much luck at bingo. But then I won a game wearing the leopard face mask.

Debra (She Who Seeks) theorized the mask is my new lucky attire, so I wore it last time.

There was not a win, but I thought perhaps it was because I didn’t wear the matching leggings.

This time, I put the two together — leopard mask, leopard leggings and it turned out to be a winning combination.

I won Game 6 and snagged that soup cup I’d coveted three weeks ago.

It was still there because, every time a winner approached the table, I telephatically sent out "Don't take the soup cup, don't take the soup cup, don't take the soup cup".

Speaking of a plot thickening ...