It is a rule, universally observed, that a few people do the work of many. The many get by on a smile or a thank-you, thereby cheaply benefiting from the labour of the few. This is especially true of commitees (De Kommitee) which look after residents' interests in apartment blocks. Year after year, the same few dedicated stalwarts organise the cleaning of common areas and general repairs.
Living as they do in the block , they have been known to quieten the unruly and heal the sick. Oh - and deal with police and ambulances, pursue sundry debtors and absconding contractors.
No mean service, you may think, for very little rewards beyond a few muttered thank you's at the AGM from the half-dozen or so apartment owners who bother to attend. A bit of embarrassed applause and we all go facing into another year of letting De Kommitee manage the running of the block.
I know whereoff I speak, having done my stint on many committees. Usually, the make-up is the same: an Honorary male Chairman, an Honorary female secretary who does more than her share, an Honorary male treasurer. If that sounds like a property Honours List, so be it - these workhorses deserved recognition, though they rarely ask or expect it.
But in a competitive property market, their devotion to unpaid duty has enchanced the value of the apartments whose owners are notable by their absence. Having the place painted every few years, keeping vandalism to manageable levels - all helped towards the feel-good commercial value of the block. It is fair to say they earned their keep, as they are property owners of apartments themselves, it being a condition of membership of De Kommitee.
Alas, not anymore. The voluntary ethic has ataken a nose dive recently, product of urban stress, soaring property values and, increasingly, cop-on by the former unpaid producers of profit.
Mostly though, the commuter rat-race has taken its toll. By the time Honorary Secretary has made it to her front door, her brain grid-locked from traffic, she wants to put her feet up and keep them horizontal with a stiff drink. Does she really need to feel virtuous by hauling herself to a meeting which will only have The Few present - The Few who have kept the place going.
Her sense of service is wearing thin, especially as she is soon to sell up, take her profit and go to a place where she will never reveal her expertise. What she has really had, of course, is enough of human frailty, in all its perversity, whether as landlords or tenants.
She has had enough of insomniacs calling her out of bed, enough of angsty owners who can never mind their car-park zappers, enough of the mad actor who roars his lines at midnight, usually after a fit of drinking, as a prelude to a personal confession, which nobody wants to hear boomed throughout the building.
Enough, too, of the refined woman who has recently taken to stopping on the landing and staring into space. Honorary Secretary will leave, as will Honorary Treasurer (leaving puzzling queries over subscriptions).
Like many who have given years of thankless labour, they have seen the light of relief on the horizon. Who - or what - is the vacuum? Property management companies, that's what. Block after block are being handed over to these mushrooming companies, who charge about twice the previous annual rate, for a lesser service. (De Kommittee, for all its petulance, managed to get work done cheaply).
On the upside, these property management companies provide a skilled service, with carpenters, locksmiths and cleaners delivering their work professionally. They have little vans with clear logos and telephone numbers. But oddly enouigh, their phones are usually engaged when someone starts roaring on the landing in the early hours.
