Not Junk Mail

I owe an apology for last night.  I lost control of myself, and I said things I should not have said.   And I do apologize.

The audience gallery of the log cabin Commission room was SRO.  It was pretty clear what the crowd was about: item 12.a, the Manager's evaluation.  We've been talking about and anticipating it for at least a month, and last night was to be the night.  ("...to be...?")

At the outset of the meeting, Tracy Truppman announced that she had just that day received from Sharon Ragoonan Sharon's resignation, effective yesterday.  The room was in admitted "shock," even including Roxy Ross and David Coviello, so they said.  Everyone had come hoping either to ward off Tracy's final killing of the beast she had been wounding, or to egg Tracy on.  It was all over the neighborhood, and on Nextdoor.  People who didn't come to meetings came to that one.  And there was suddenly a breathtaking deflation in the room.  Sharon was gone.  She had left.  It was over.

Many residents asked Tracy why Sharon left, and Tracy insisted, repeatedly, that she didn't know.  Jenny Johnson-Sardella and Will Tudor didn't know, either, but they were fully composed.  They didn't even want to venture guesses as to why Sharon left, because, they both said, it would not be fair to Sharon to talk about her in her absence, when she couldn't defend herself (from what?).  And we wouldn't want to utter on the record things that might lead to the Village's being sued by Sharon.

But if Sharon told Tracy that she was resigning, didn't she say why?  Didn't Tracy even ask?  The stories we were given sounded like no.  Sharon didn't tell, and Tracy didn't ask.  Not curious?  Evidently not.

So, very many of us were left with empty speeches we intended to deliver either in support of Sharon or to express dissatisfaction.  And then, it was time for public comment.  Tracy offered.  No one flinched.  I hadn't been sure if there was anything I would have wanted to say, and my plan was to wait until near the end, to see if there was anything left to say.  But with precious instants of dead air after Tracy's offer for public comment, I decided I should arise.  I would hold a place, while others gathered themselves and their thoughts.

I really didn't know what to say.  I have been furious with Tracy for quite some time, watched her undermine and dismantle Village administration, and torment Sharon.  I like Sharon.  We all do.  She hadn't told me she was leaving, and the whole thing was very sudden.  Funny enough, when Tracy was in a more aggressive form of assault on Sharon, a few weeks ago, Sharon told me she was thinking of simply leaving early every day.  Like what was the point of trying, if Tracy (et. al.-- it doesn't work, unless there's an et. al.) was gunning for her and grinding her down?  But I told Sharon to keep doing the job she was doing.  If Tracy and her posse want Sharon's scalp, make them work for it.  Don't hand it to them.  So she soldiered on.  Until yesterday.  If something happened yesterday, I don't know what it was.  And Tracy isn't talking.

So there I stood, looking at Tracy, filled with anger and frustration, and loss.  And I directed my comments to Tracy.  I reminded her of her lack of involvement with the Village, except when she had her pearls of genius to unload on us.  And her bizarre application for the Manager's job last year.  And how she hounded Sharon, until Sharon couldn't take it any more.  And I told Tracy what adjectives about her occurred to me.  I told her I found her predatory, corrosive, nasty, dishonest, self-involved, full of herself, disgraceful, and disgusting.  I just lost it.  The people who don't like you will always criticize you.  But when your friends tell you you "went too far," and you sort of knew it anyway, well, there isn't much else to say.  Except I'm sorry.  And I am.

Much of the rest of the meeting involved trying to clean up the mess that was just made, and trying to anticipate its future consequences, of which there are several, at least.

And then, there was 12.b.  Roxy Ross had been receiving lots of e-mails from Tracy.  The whole Commission had.  They were rants and screeds about whatever crusade (against Sharon) was occupying Tracy, and she sent them not only to Sharon, but also to all the other Commissioners.  Roxy had an idea that this kind of spilling was a Sunshine violation.  And in the end, it was determined, even by Tracy, that this kind of indiscretion was not a good idea, and not "best practice," but it was not technically a Sunshine violation.  And that's true.  It was not, in itself, a violation.

The Sunshine Law says that members of Boards in Florida cannot discuss Board business except in appropriately arranged meetings.  The meetings have to be announced in advance, open to the public, and minutes have to be kept.  And the definition of a discussion is technical and specific.  It is the mutual sharing of information pertinent to matters on which the Board will vote, or matters which have a reasonable likelihood to come up for a vote.  So if Tracy says something to another Board member (Commissioner), but the other Commissioner doesn't reply, then there was no mutual sharing, and a conversation did not occur.  It was made clear that each of Tracy's e-rants opened with a caveat for the recipient not to reply.

So Roxy was wrong.  There was no Sunshine violation.  But Roxy asked the wrong question.  The question was not whether this sharing was a Sunshine violation, but rather, what was Tracy's goal in sharing at all.  What was Tracy's purpose in informing her Commission colleagues over which coals she was then raking Sharon?  Discussions like that, among Commission colleagues, where real and mutual conversations can occur, is what Commission meetings are for.  So what was Tracy doing?  That was the question.

And there are three possible answers.  First, it's possible that Tracy is in fact completely full of herself, totally uncontained, and cannot do, say, write, or think anything, unless the whole world has to know about it.  Even if it's inappropriate and unnecessary.  That's the least terrible possibility.  The next, somewhat more terrible possibility is that Tracy was using these distributions to telegraph to her colleagues what she was thinking and doing, so they would be ready to back her up later, when there was an actual meeting.  They would know whence she was coming, so they could prepare themselves to agree and support.

And then, there's the most terrible possibility, Sunshine-wise.  That possibility is that the circulation was superfluous, and intended to create e-camouflage.  The possibility is that Tracy and some of her colleagues were already actively colluding, in exactly the way the Sunshine Law proscribes, and the e-mails were intended to create what could later be presented as the basis for how Tracy's colleagues knew what was in Tracy's mind.  You don't have to admit you met privately to discuss something you weren't supposed to discuss, if you can say that only one person communicated, and only one way, and to everyone.

Why Tracy sends out e-mail so unnecessarily and inappropriately?  Who knows?  Like why Sharon abruptly quit, having a good relationship with two Commissioners, and no great difficulty on record with two others?  Who knows?