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You won't believe what I discovered when I woke up to jackhammers destroying my $15,000 wheelchair pathway - the same money I'd secretly donated to save our HOA from bankruptcy the month before. But when Karen, our power-hungry HOA board member, revealed this was just the beginning of her neighborhood takeover, how could I expose her schemes without revealing my identity as the HOA's mysterious benefactor? Welcome to my channel, please subscribe if you want more Karen and HOA stories. The sound of jackhammers ripped me from my sleep at 7:30 AM sharp. I rolled my wheelchair to the window, my heart already racing before I even pulled back the curtains. What I saw made my blood run cold - three construction workers were destroying my front pathway, the special concrete ramp I'd spent months designing for wheelchair access to my home.
I grabbed my phone and started recording, my hands shaking with anger as I watched them tear up the smooth, gently sloped path that had given me my independence back. The workers were wearing bright yellow vests with "Thompson Construction" printed on the back - the same company owned by Karen Thompson's husband. Of course she was behind this.
Just last month, I'd anonymously donated $15,000 to save our HOA from going broke. Nobody knew it was me - I wanted to help quietly after living here for fifteen years. The funny thing? That donation was exactly what I'd spent on this pathway. Now here was Karen, our newest HOA board member, destroying it without even giving me a warning.
I watched as Karen strutted across my front lawn in her designer workout clothes, clipboard in hand, directing the workers like she was conducting an orchestra. She'd moved in just six months ago and somehow already gotten herself elected to the HOA board. Since then, she'd been making everyone's lives miserable with her constant "violations" and surprise inspections.
"Excuse me!" I called out through my open window. "What's going on with my pathway?"
Karen's head snapped up, her highlighted bob cut catching the morning sun. "Oh, good morning! We're removing this unauthorized modification to bring the property back up to code. You should have received my notice last week." She smiled that fake smile of hers, the one that never reached her eyes.
"I never got any notice," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "And this pathway is fully approved. I have all the permits right here in my files."
"Well," she said, checking her clipboard, "according to the HOA bylaws section 47-B, all external modifications must maintain aesthetic uniformity with the neighborhood standard. This pathway clearly doesn't match the approved concrete color palette."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The pathway matched our neighborhood perfectly - I'd made sure of it. "Karen, I need this pathway to access my home. It's an ADA requirement."
"Rules are rules," she chirped, waving her clipboard. "You can submit a new modification request at next month's board meeting. Make sure to include three color samples and a professional architectural rendering. Oh, and the review fee is now $500."
My mind raced to the stack of legal documents in my office - the approved permits, the ADA compliance certificates, and most importantly, the proof of my donation that had saved our HOA from bankruptcy. I could reveal everything right now, show her who she was really messing with. But something told me to wait, to document everything first.