Strata Hell

Condo owners who threaten murder. Treasurers who steal cash. Welcome to the weird world of strata councils.

By Steve Burgess; illustration by Rod Filbrandt (Published: September 2006)

HUMAN NATURE—IS IT ESSENTIALLY GOOD OR EVIL? On the one hand there’s Touched by an Angel and Mother Teresa; on the other, Lord of the Flies and condo strata councils. Tough call.

Strata councils are elected to make decisions and lay down the bylaws for the residents of a condo development, as well as rules for common areas. The council sets budgets and settles disputes. Councils are governed by the Strata Act, new and improved since 2002 at 129 pages; the previous Act was only 59 pages long. But in spite of—or perhaps because of—all that regulation, horror stories are legion. A little bit of power can bring out the inner Napoleon in people, and pretty soon people are having their dogs mapped.

“The strata council in my Yaletown condo decided to outlaw big dogs,” says Vanessa (last names are being withheld to protect against reprisal). “No dogs over 18 inches high. Big dogs already in the condo could be grandfathered in. But their markings were recorded so that no one could replace a big dog with another big dog.”

Dog mapping is just the beginning. In 2002 Drew and June paid $239,000 for a condo in a small building in Kits near West Eighth and Stevens, with only three neighbours. All three were single, fifty-ish women. First skirmish: the couple’s decision to install laminate flooring. “The woman downstairs was weeping on the phone,” Drew says. “She said they had a bylaw against hardwood floors because of the noise. Well, they didn’t yet—but they were thinking about one.”

Meanwhile Drew and June’s bedroom wall job was ballooning out due to water leakage—“but only on dry days,” Drew says. Turns out the upstairs neighbour was watering her plants and storing the hoses on the balcony, where they drained into the couple’s bedroom. No action deemed necessary, the council decided. By a vote of 3-1. Drew and June now have a heritage house in New West.

The troubles flow both ways. Good strata councils must also deal with bad owners. Veda lives in Fairview Slopes near Oak and West Eighth. When the building was assessed for envelope repairs of about $700,000, the lone commercial occupant refused to pay. “She thought she bore no responsibility for the residential part of the building,” says Veda. It took two years and lots more money just to get the case to court, incurring more debt to the residents.

Renting adds another level of complexity, with both sides unsure of their obligations. Yani and Paul rented a 14th and Main condo from the unit’s owner. There was a pet ban but previous tenants had owned pets, sometimes a lot of pets. “He told us our cat would be okay,” Yani says.

They would all be house-hunting again soon—the cat first. “We eventually found her living with another family,” Yani recalls. Can’t blame the poor animal: one of the strata council members had attacked it with a rolled-up mat. Yani and Paul were next. “She eventually had us evicted,” Yani says. Apparently the ban on pets was enforced at the discretion of strata council members.

Tony Gioventu is executive director of the Condominium Home Owners Association. He’s heard some horror stories that could be served up with popcorn. A condo development in Maple Ridge, for example, where “the treasurer had a gambling addiction and drained the operating and reserve funds.” Or a downtown development where “the treasurer and secretary had credit cards and ATM cards in the name of the strata council, which they used for personal stuff.” There have been cases involving boozy parties and even donations to political campaigns, all made with strata council funds. “If the strata council won’t provide you with financial records and bank statements,” Gioventu says, “you can almost guarantee there’s trouble.”

You know those Westerns where a lone rider enters a town living under the thumb of some local tyrant? Take away the horses (banned in most developments) and you have Jane’s story. Her cautionary tale comes from both sides of the strata fence—first as a powerless outsider, then as a strata council member whose actions earned her a shouted death threat.

On the day she moved into her condo on the 800 block of East Eighth, Jane found cockroaches. “No cockroaches in the building,” management had previously assured her. There certainly hadn’t been any mention of it in the minutes. Jane subsequently learned that the pest control budget was $50 per year—spent on a spray intended for garden vegetables. “I don’t think you’d kill many cockroaches with that stuff,” she says. On another occasion, Jane got a call from the maintenance man. “Are your windows leaking?” he asked. “Someone else complained about it.” She went to check—they were. “You probably left your windows open,” she was told.

As Jane eventually discovered, the “strata council” was dominated by one tenant—officially the treasurer—who made all the decisions but was never officially responsible for anything. After attending meetings Jane discovered that all her pre-purchase research of council minutes had been useless: the topics discussed were never actually included. And the building had serious problems: an engineering report would eventually assess repairs at $1.5 million.

Jane grabbed a vacant council seat and, with fellow tenants, staged a coup of sorts. The practice of paying strata council members was ended and the incompetent maintenance man (actually just a strata council member with no maintenance experience; his inept caulking had led to the window leaks) was fired. It was this man who, when confronted about firecrackers on his balcony, exploded at Jane. “You take people’s jobs away!” he screamed. “I’m going to [expletive] kill you!”

“I couldn’t buy property in Vancouver again,” Jane says now. “I wouldn’t trust anybody’s strata minutes. All the agencies in the world can’t help if you have a leaky condo and an uncooperative council.”

“I’d consider moving back to the city,” Drew says from his New West heritage home. “Maybe a larger development where strata council issues don’t get so personal.”

A strata council is bureaucracy writ small, with the problems and annoyances of big government brought right to your doorstep. One hundred and twenty-nine pages of regulations don’t have much effect when things get personal. As Burt Reynolds said in Deliverance: “The law? What law? Where’s the law, Drew?”




Read more in the Real Estate Survival series:

The Hottest Guy in Town: Reno fever has taken over the city and made contractors like Brad Wurmlinger the hottest guys in town. By Matt O'Grady

Busted: The cautionary tale of a renegade reno. By Guy Saddy

Budding Entrepreneurs: The highs and lows of buying a former grow-op. By Marcie Good

Feng Shui Revival: Why Feng Shuiing your house pays big dividends. By Kevin Chong