Timeshare nightmares by Obona Juan Dario

TIMESHARE NIGHTMARES (AN EXPOSE' OF THE TIMESHARE INDUSTRYâ&#x20AC;&#x2039;)

AUSTIN NEIL AARONSON

Aaronson Law Group 2180 W. State Road 434, Suite 6136 Longwood, FL 32779

TIMESHARE NIGHTMARES (AN EXPOSE' OF THE TIMESHARE INDUSTRY)

Aaronson Law Group 2180 W. State Road 434, Suite 6136 Longwood, FL 32779

FORWARD

I have been practicing law in the state of Florida since 1988, focusing on contract litigation. With my staff, most of our practice involves timeshare disputes, so we have a good deal of insight into the kind of shenanigans that go on with timeshares. You can view our credentials at www.aaronsonlawgroup.com. As to the book itself: It is a poorly kept secret that many timeshare deals are procured by questionable tactics. Along these lines, each chapter starts with a discussion of some legal or quasi-legal aspect of how timeshares work. Some of these chapters also involve practical explanations of 'how they get away with it'. Thereafter, each chapter goes on to give one or more entertaining case studies to illustrate the concepts previously discussed in the abstract. These stories are based on real life examples of cases that have come into our office through our clients.

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CHAPTER ONE

TIMESHARE ORIGINS

The Official Version The first timeshare in the United States was started in 1973 by Caribbean International Corporation (CIC) based in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. It offered what it called a 25-year "vacation license" rather than ownership. The company owned two other resorts the "vacation license holder" could alternate their vacation weeks with, one in St. Croix and one in St. Thomas; both in the U.S. Virgin Islands. The contract was simple and straightforward. C.I.C. promised to maintain and provide the specified accommodation type (a studio, one bedroom, or two bedroom unit) for use by the "license owner" for a period of 25 years (until 1999 from 1974, for example) in the specified season and number of weeks agreed upon, with only two extra charges: a $15.00 per diem (per night) rate, frozen at that cost for the life of the contract and a $25.00 switching fee, should the patron decide to use his/her week/weeks at one of the other resorts.

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The presentation's logic was based on the fact that the cost of the license and the small per diem, compared with the projected cost of hotel rates climbing in the next 25 years to over $100.00 per night, would save the license owner many vacation dollars over the span of the license agreement. The license owner was allowed to rent or give his week away as a gift in any particular year. The only stipulation was that the $15.00 per diem must be paid every year whether the unit was occupied or not.

By 1980, the Florida Legislature had passed laws making timeshares into condominiums, with deeded weekly intervals. This meant that in addition to the price of the owner's vacation week, a maintenance fee and a homeowners' association (HOA) had to be initiated. This fee simple ownership also spawned timeshare location exchange companies like Interval International and RCI so owners in any given area could exchange their week with owners in other areas.

In more recent years, issues have arisen in association allegations of deceitful sales practices. Alleged overbooking, as well, has been cited, especially with the advent of 'floating use plans' and/or 'points' systems requiring reservations far in advance, or requiring the consumer to book accommodations far inferior to those marketed at the point of sale. From a purely legal standpoint, the unilateral transition from a deed system to a points system, which has become increasingly popular among developers, can be regarded as an unlawful confiscation of real property.

This book will explore some of these issues in detail, with case studies illustrating the concepts based on the experiences of clients of the author, a practicing attorney who has dealt with hundreds these cases over the years.

How Timeshares Really Happened

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If you 'google' the word timeshare, Wikipedia will tell you that the first timeshares were created in the early 1970s. This is not true. The first timeshares were actually created in prehistoric times by Neolithic homo-sapiens, specifically Cro-Magnon men.

Og, a prominent resident of an African Rift Valley, and the alpha male of his tribe, lived there with his wife, children, and concubines. Their home consisted of a cavern with dozens of distinct chambers carved out of limestone by the leaching of water through eons of time. Having established himself as clan leader, he took over the largest cave chamber. He then instituted a system of homage whereby his clan members would pledge a portion of their kill to him. In return, they were able to occupy certain designated chambers of the cavern, on a continual basis, throughout the year. The best hunters even received animal hides, with a 'chart' of sorts, etched in blood, reflecting exactly which cave chambers they 'owned'.

This arrangement made things, if not exactly comfortable, at least a lot better than sleeping under a rock. The clan spent more time inside enjoying barbequed mammoth and less time on the tracking trail, wandering endlessly from kill to kill.

But things got so safe and prosperous that the clan members began to multiply, and eventually ran out of room in the cave. Under Og's system of homage, those members offering the least sizeable kills were ousted, and went back to sleeping outside. The hides were revoked, and a 'points' system was instituted, 50 points for a squirrel, 500 for a yak, and so on, up to 20,000 points for a mastodon, the mother-load.

Many of Og's subordinates reverted to hardship, eating only what little was left of the carcass pledged to Og. Attrition from the cold and harsh elements also took its toll, and the number of clansmen began to dwindle. But Og, for his part, became more and more prosperous, stockpiling dried meat by the ton, and even hanging trophy beasts' busts from the cavern walls.

Most of the clan members were relegated to one visit, or 'vacation', into a single cave chamber,

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per year, while Og took over the rest of the cavern. Tribal morale began to drop. Often the 'accommodations' were less than promised, as stains from cooked animal fat accumulated, and graffiti covered cave paintings of triumphant mammoth kills during happier times.

Whispers of an impending cavern coup began to circulate, polarizing the tribe, as clansmen pitted off one against the next, swearing allegiance to Og, or his chief rival, Gor. Gor promised to spread the wealth around and open the caves back up, share and share alike, to all that would support him. Eventually, under cover of night, Gor and his henchmen snuck in, and gored Og with a broken mammoth tusk. Gor was proclaimed leader, and he and his henchmen thrived. Former Og pledges fled, taking to the mountains, and eventually starving in the winter of the barren wasteland.

Back in the caves, there was just enough room for all. The hide system was reestablished, the dried meat distributed, and life became comfortable once more. But history has a way of repeating itself.

CHAPTER TWO TIMESHARE GRIEVANCES

The Classic Case

During a typical timeshare sale, promises are made during the process verbally and in glossy literature touting the opulent surroundings and accommodations in exotic locations throughout the world. However, when you finally book and travel to whatever site may be available - if anything at all - you find yourself in something less appealing. The prices that you pay annually

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could easily have bought you a four star resort with unlimited resort destination options. When you complain about it to the resort developer, you are directed to read the fine print in the contract full of disclaimers and waivers that purport to justify this bait and switch. What's worse, there doesn't seem to be any way out.

If there is a classic scenario reflecting the essence of timeshare grievances, this might be it: You respond to an add online touting a discounted cruise. You cruise with your wife, with the understanding that you'll have to sit through some sales pitch. During the pitch, you realize they're selling vacation 'ownership'. It's really a timeshare, touted by a team of slick salesmen during a high pressure sales pitches involving promise after promise about the opulent surroundings, the exotic locations, and the prudent 'investment' you are making. You are further told that the developer had a resale department and would either re-sell it to a third party or buy it back if not. There are literally people 'waiting in the wings' to jump on your deal if you don't act right then and there. After several hours of this charade, you finally capitulate and sign off on the documents, as much to get out of the room as anything else.

Sometime later, you get back home, and try to book a vacation for later in the year. No dice. You are told to go back and read your closing documents. You finally have a meaningful chance to review the paperwork, and come to realize that the sales representatives dramatically understated the cost of the timeshare. For the first time you begin to understand the prohibitively expensive nature of the purchase. You realize that the many of the exotic vacation amenities and locations are not even accessible. You can't believe that you fell for it.

You try to call the developer. The developer does not respond to your complaints, and refuses to give contact information to field questions or concerns about its practices. Finally, they refuse to provide an accounting upon request for a line item reconciliation of revenue versus expenses in the handling of 'maintenance fees', which continue to escalate without any documented justification.

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Timeshare Entrapment - An Allegory

“Ownership” is usually a good thing. The term “ownership” implies dominion, investment, or entitlement to the thing owned. Timeshare “ownership”, on the other hand, may feel more like entrapment than anything else. This is because a timeshare, when considered in light of all the baggage it entails, especially the debt typically incurred to finance it, is a net liability. Even after it’s paid off, the timeshare typically is not saleable on any secondary market, as exorbitant and escalating maintenance dues assessed year after year substantially reduce or eliminate any appeal to a would-be buyer.

Thus, the ‘ownership’ of a timeshare is often more properly characterized as ‘entrapment’ than dominion or investment. So if a timeshare is a trap, what kind is it? Is there some kind of physical analogy or metaphor which properly describes timeshare entrapment? There are many types of physical traps. The dead-fall, the snare, the pit-fall, and the various spring traps, are but a few.

The dead-fall is a crude, cruel, and obvious trap. It consists of a heavy, flattened stone, tenuously propped up by a stick, which is baited at the base. The weight of the stone crushes the hapless little animal tugging to free the bait when the stick collapses. Few animals will fall for this one, much less the sly fox, the wily coyote, or the ever-industrious beaver. Even the wild boar, a generally impetuous brute of reckless disposition, will seldom be allured upon sighting such an obvious ruse. Its human equivalent would be something like a deed to some unseen swampland in a far off place. It worked a time or two, perhaps, many years ago, but that’s about it. More than a few animals, on the other hand, will still fall for, and fall into, the covered pit trap. Hence the term 'pit-fall'. Particularly the witless wild boar, hungry and headstrong, and a hedonist at heart, will be inclined to allow his acute sense of olfaction and hunger overwhelm his better judgment. He’s a slave to his instincts, and this very lack of resolve will soon find him

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falling headlong, precipitously into the bottom of the abyss. Colloquially, and not to cast aspersions of cannibalism in the direction of the poor porker, but you might even say that he fell for some kind of ‘pig-in-the-poke’ trickery. The proverbial pig-in-the-poke was once a commonly employed graft involving a stray possum or some other animal touted as a piglet and sold in a burlap sack, sight unseen. Now days, it generally refers to any sales scheme where you just don’t know quite what you’re really getting. A used car from a dusty corner lot, perhaps, with no car-fax. But it’s still not as sophisticated as a timeshare sale. And then there’s the snare. This sophisticated little trap generally entails the use of a bent-over sapling or counterweighted rock strung to a hold, tenuously held to a ground-based anchor. The hold, in turn, is attached to a noose of sorts. It will ensnare even the craftiest fox, as he bends down to pick the bait planted just behind the looped noose, tugging at it a little, unwittingly triggering release of the trap.

Imagine the terror in the mind of the helpless little vermin as he’s raptured rapidly into the heavens – animal heaven, to be sure, but sadly before his time. Be it the fox, the clever little squirrel, or even the Briar Rabbit, none are immune to this treachery.

So now we’ve come to the point where the actual physical trap is a much closer analog of the metaphorical timeshare trap. The latter is baited, not with cheese or a raisin, but with free theme park tickets or a discounted resort stay. And although there’s still crude, brute force behind it, its deployment is far more camouflaged, more nuanced. Perhaps the wiliest coyote will fail to appreciate the jeopardy concealed in the hair-like filament of the limp-lying loop, if he sees it at all.

Just so, the practiced physician, the studious accountant, and the learned jurist may well fail to appreciate the subtle ways of the timeshare sales subterfuge. Indeed, even the sagacious professor is overwhelmed by the opulent resort surroundings, the guile of the saleslady, and her

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silky-smooth marketing pitch. Everything looks, feels, and sounds so solid, so legitimate. And, so thinks the learned man, "Behold, it's all right in front of me, marble floors, Grecian statues, soaring ceilings, a four-star, silk-stocking resort!'" But alas, all the bricks and mortar in the world will simply falter, collapse, and crumble to the ground like the ruins of ancient Rome. Only it doesn't take a thousand years. Indeed, not five minutes need pass. Nay, in the twinkling of an eye, and with one stroke of the pen, the sage man, giddy with excitement, sets his inked plume to the parchment. Like Chamberlain at Munich, penning words of appeasement. And now London is in ruins.

Case Study - Guy and Veronica

Guy was a lowly stock boy living in Newark. He had always wanted to vacation in Florida, especially one December when it was oh-so-cold. He also wanted to impress Veronica, his girlfriend. He saw an ad offering half-priced hotel tickets. He noticed an asterisk, though, next to the offer, something about an investment seminar. Guy figured with the money he saved on the hotel, he'd have plenty left over to invest, so he jumped on it.

And when they arrived at the Hiftgorse Hotel south of Miami, the front desk directed them to the concierge, who told them to meet 'Stan' there the next morning. They took a rugged old shuttle bus with some other tourists at the hotel, and drove a long, long way. The highway became an avenue, the avenue a street, and the street a dirt road, until they got deep into the wilderness, a swampy jungle.

This was truly an adventure, Guy thought. Veronica was frightened, though. What if there were snakes, much less alligators. Finally, they arrived at the location, a remote outpost in a camping area that looked like an open-air retreat. Was this the investment property, Guy wondered? It

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could use some development, but the price would surely be cheap.

Stan introduced them to his friend Ben, a hulking, bear of a man, with a brushy mustache. In a deep, almost gruff voice, Ben started saying good things about investing in the property -- that it would go up and up in value, and that they could vacation there any time, and so on. They showed the tourists all kinds of glossy literature picturing the property, once it was developed. Beautiful resort rooms and amenities in a lush, subtropical wonderland, with sandy beaches, a water park, and even a golf course.

Guy was really impressed. Veronica not so much. She thought she noticed a serpent slithering just off the pavement of the veranda. She insisted that Guy take her back to the hotel, right then and there. Guy was crestfallen, but he really liked this girl. Who knows, maybe she'd even let him sleep next to her on the sofa one evening.

So finally he had to interrupt Ben. "Sorry, Ben, but we have to go back now."

"You'll go back when everyone else goes back, please. We're just getting started."

"But we've already decided not to invest here. There's no point in waiting."

"In that case, you won't be going back at all."

Veronica started to cry. Guy threatened to call the police.

But Ben took out his wallet, opened it up, and flashed a five pointed emblem at them.

And so, to make a long story short, Guy and Veronica became proud timeshare owners. Not that the timeshare itself was ever developed. Properly speaking, they became owners of Florida swampland. To this day, Guy dutifully pays his annual dues, $1,250. He often wonders what

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they are for.

On the flip side, he and Veronica finally got married. Now only Guy sleeps on the couch. The moral of the story: Never book at Hiftgorse in the South (of Florida).

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CHAPTER THREE TIMESHARE SALES PSYCHOLOGY

Sociopaths and Actors as Timeshare Salesmen Definition of a sociopath: 1. a person with a psychopathic personality whose behavior is antisocial, often criminal, and who lacks a sense of moral responsibility or social conscience. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/sociopath The manipulative con-man. .. Sociopaths are characterized by an absence of empathy and poor impulse control, with a total lack of conscience. About 1% of the total population can be defined as sociopaths, according to a detailed psychological profile checklist. They tend to be egocentric, callous, manipulative, deceptive, superficial, irresponsible and parasitic, even predatory. The majority of [sociopaths] are not violent and many do very well in jobs where their personality traits are advantageous and their social tendencies tolerated, [including sales]. From Craig, M., Catani, M., Deeley, Q., Latham, R., Daly, E., Kanaan, R., Picchioni, M., McGuire, P., Fahy, T., & Murphy, D. (2009). According to a recent study, sociopathic tendencies are not only advantageous but especially prevalent in certain occupations, including sales. The Wisdom of Psychopaths: What Saints, Spies, and Serial Killers Can Teach Us About Success Hardcover – October 16, Dutton, 2012.

People with a background in acting are also well suited to sales in general. Many performers are naturally and exceptionally good at appealing to the emotions of their audience—even if it’s an audience of one prospective buyer.

Advice from an acting adviser: "This works to your advantage if you have giftedness, training,

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and experience as an actor or actress. You may already instinctively know how to read people and “play” to their mood and affect." http://www.billhendricks.net/2014/04/jobs-for-actors-and-artists.html. You've heard about all the starving actors in Hollywood. Guess what? They don't all stay there. One of them may very well be playing you like a fiddle during a timeshare pitch.

According to a recent Harris poll, real estate sales in general are the at the bottom of all occupations in terms of respect. http://www.harrisinteractive.com/vault/Harris-Interactive-Poll-Research-Pres-Occupations-200 9-08.pdf. And of all possible jobs in real estate sales, timeshare hawkers are probably the bottom feeders.

The level of trust that we tend to accord to others is generally consistent with how trustworthy we are ourselves. http://www.strategicleadershipinstitute.net/news/scientific-proof-that-trusting-people-makes-the m-more-trustworthy/ . However, if you are particularly trusting, you may also be more vulnerable to manipulation. Most of us desire, instinctively, to believe that those around us share our moral and ethical values. But as much as you want to believe that you can trust people you meet, in some contexts, you simply cannot. And nowhere is this more apparent than in the timeshare industry.

Think about it objectively. You may pay dearly for something that is not only a net liability, but a perpetual one at that. Whether it's from Westgate or Diamond, or some other timeshare developer, the chances are good that you're being taken for a ride. Confessions of Westgate Timeshare Salesmen The following text is quoted verbatim (typos and all) from an ex-salesmen at Westgate, a preeminent timeshare developer:

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Pros: The pay. Cons: Everything... The pay which is good even becomes bad when you work for the devil himself to get it. As a timeshare sales rep for Westgate it truly is like selling your soul to the devil on a daily basis. Trainers expect and train u to do whatever it takes just to sell & lying is just the beginning of it. Management lie to u and play psychological games with their reps daily just to get u amped to sale each day aka the morning "rah" meeting. & if you don't sale... It's definitely ur fault! And no one else's they embed in ur head that everyone and anyone can be "sold" that walk through the doors. Which is not true, along with tons of other lies! If u need quick money, fine work here. Do so at your own risk, & know what your are getting yourself into. I learned a lot here in my 2mos of employment but at the price I had to pay, it was not worth it. This place is beyond WRONG, it's a part of the evil that exists in this world!!! Advice to Management: None!... They all know what's going on, it apart of Westgate's culture. The wrong doing is accepted. For anyone, who has continued to work here for at least more than a year in sales, wrong is a part of who they are - coldhearted.

And another ex employee:

Pros: Hospitality perks: park tickets etc. Cons: Deceptive company, lies to employers and guests. They book packages with no quality assurance and allows sales reps to deceive guests.

And yet another:

Pros: 2 week training allows you to learn what you need to know to sell their product. Good way for people with little or no education to make a living, so long as they don't mind lying to get the product sold. Cons: Product is worthless so they have to bait-and-switch their presentation...you're pretty much selling air. Anyone can look around on the internet and find deals on travel for less

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than they'd pay annually for a timeshare. Literally the only qualifications to work there as a sales rep are passing a background check and a drug test. The people make the job - and the people here made the job less than desirable.

This was just a sampling of the handwringing that you can read from ex-employees at http://www.glassdoor.com/Reviews/Westgate-Resorts-Reviews-E253667.htm. There's nothing that we can add to this.

Some Dissembling Required

Dissembling, defn. concealing one's true motives, feelings, or beliefs. Chances are that you've had to assemble something in your life. Perhaps it was an office desk, a bookshelf, or maybe tricycle for your kids. But have you ever dissembled anything? It's an interesting concept, that of taking apart, not literally, but rather metaphorically. Some context is necessary: We are all skeptical, to varying degrees. This is a natural, good instinct, something that we need to protect ourselves. One who lacks skepticism entirely is vulnerable, or even gullible, and easily taken advantage of.

A dissembler is engaged in ... slowly, methodically, breaking apart this natural psychological defense. He wants to incrementally chisel away at the walls of our natural skepticism until they come crumbling down, even to the point that we'll believe anything he says.

Why it necessary for the timeshare salesman to engage in dissembling? Because the salesman is pitching a lemon - a fundamentally flawed concept. For many reasons, including the fact that timeshare is a net liability, that it is essentially inalienable, and that it is therefore a perpetual obligation, there exist no viable economic reason to buy into one.

Case Study - The Bensons

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Brian Benson, an account man with a Chicago area consulting firm, worked hard through the winter of '13. His commute into the Loop from out in western suburbs was a dreary trek, driving through wind-swept snow to the metro station, standing out on the platform in the bone chilling wind, then crowding into the train like one of so many sardines during the 45 minute ride into downtown. He'd put in a long, arduous day in his little cubicle, making sales calls, following up on existing accounts, and generally stressing over complaints from disgruntled clients.

His

primary consolation was a sense of security in the idea that it was all for a worthy cause. After all, Jen and the kids depended on him. He pictured her back home reading to little Bryce from Dr. Seuss. He thought of Brittany, off at school for the first time, finding her way in the world. During the work day, he would try to put in a call to home when he could, during break time and lunch, and occasionally when he could steal some time between account calls. He was the quintessential family man.

One night in February after the train ride back out to the suburbs, while walking out to the car there in the commuter lot, he slipped on a patch of ice, and fell headlong onto the frozen asphalt. He was out like a light. When he came to, he tried to shake it off, staggered groggily on to the car, and then drove home in a stupor. Jen greeted him at the door, but turned white as a ghost when she saw the gash on his forehead. Off to the hospital they rushed, where Brian stayed overnight for observation.

The next day they resolved that it was time for a vacation. Jen responded to an email touting a dramatically discounted stay at the luxurious Playa del Mar in Acapulco, in late March, during spring break. Brian had a week of accumulated vacation time, and so it was decided - the whole family was going to paradise!

After a layover in Houston, they landed at Acapulco Internacionale, and then rode the rest of the way in a shuttle full of giddy tourists, mostly families like the Bensons, before checking into the resort at the front desk. Brian hadn't seen Jen so excited in a long time, as much for the kids as

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herself. After check in through the front desk, they were told to see the concierge, who would help plan their stay.

There Carmen, a comely, sophisticated-looking Mexican woman promised tickets to a local water park, part of the package deal, but reminded them that they had to sit through a presentacion in the morning. Jen didn't remember having seen this requirement, much less had she told Brian and the kids And where would the kids stay, after all? Not to worry, Carmen assured, there was a nursery and playground facility, and the kids would be safe and sound. So in the morning, after an early breakfast, the family prepared to split up. "Don't cry …now, now… it's only for a short time… we'll all go to the water park after this… you know, sliding boards, waterfalls…". Jen's words of encouragement seemed to do the trick. Brian gave the kids a big hug, kisses were traded all around, and Jen reluctantly let go of little Bryce, teary eyed, to be led off at the hand of "Ms. Maria. " Brittany, with her time in kindergarten, wasn't as timid, skipping along beside.

The couple ambled over to the convention center area, where they joined perhaps a hundred other tourists in a seminar room, tables aligned facing the front where there was a power point projector. Glossy literature lined the tables. No sooner had they settled in, than a waitress, of sorts, 'Davila', offered them some 'tapas'. There were chips, salsa, quesadillas, even margaritas, all 'complimentary.'

It struck Brian and Jen that cocktail service was peculiar, especially in the morning on a family vacation. Also, and they had just eaten. They politely declined. Many around them did not, though.

Finally, "Raul" took the podium. He was a squat, middle-aged man, graying around the temples, suited in navy pinstripes. His subject matter: Investment in the hospitality industry. He started off a little subdued, but after a wry joke or two, and some chuckles from the audience, the spirit seemed to take hold of him, and he commenced to deliver a pitch of salesmanship with so much

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conviction that he seemed to be invoking the wrath of the Almighty against anyone who'd dare resist. "As God is my witness, this is the most dynamic thing to hit these shores since Cortez...you cannot, must not miss out on this opportunity… because if you do, there are ten more of you out there waiting to buy into this investment…look at the person next to you… now picture ten of him just waiting to jump on it…. scary thought, huh… better to keep the wolves at the door…" But after an hour or more of this, Brian still had no idea what he was selling. References to vacation 'ownership' abounded, but it all sounded very much like a timeshare pitch.

Finally, it was time to break out. Someone named Sylvia appeared out of nowhere, and beckoned the couple into a side office. After a while, it finally became clear that they were selling timeshares after all, repackaged as vacations ownership so as to avoid all of the pejorative connotations. Brian wasn't biting. He and Jen, after about an hourly of politely declining interest for every conceivable reason, started to get up and leave. This was hard, because they were dealing with real people, and they frankly felt somewhat indebted for having accepted some of the hospitality. But they each agreed that it simply made no sense for their family, financially or otherwise.

Sylvia begged them to wait 'just another five minutes', so that she could consult her 'manager' about sweetening the pot of incentives. Brian was still standing, and becoming frustrated. "We don't want or need any more incentives, we just want to get on with the vacation with our kids…". Immediately, a towering figure calling himself "Domingo" blocked the doorway.

Scowling, he tried to put the shocked couple on the defensive: "You do not like our resort seńor?... You show up here, on our dime, accept all our 'graces', and then try to just walk out on us. .. ". He was literally brow-beating Brian. "Where are you from…Chicago I see…I wonder how you would like it in Chicago, if I show up at your home and [defecate] on your front porch…"

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Things went on like this for several minutes, but it seemed eternal. Jen's concerns were no longer merely about the fear of offending Sylvia. She actually began to wonder how they could physically escape from the little office. There was Domingo, in all his bluster, trying to intimidate her much smaller husband. When it became apparent that this was all well beyond the pale of any reasonable civility, Brian, still on the defensive, actually made reference to calling the police.

"You go ahead, Seńor, call any cop you want, there's the phone, right there on the table." Brian started to lift the receiver…"I happen to know someone there who can help you, ask the receptionist for my brother Eduardo, the Chief". At this point, Jen began to sob uncontrollably. Brian knew he had to focus. He had no idea where his kids were. He would be lucky to get out of there at all, at least any time soon. He could continue to resist, and risk something very bad, who knows what. Or he could simply sign some paperwork, get out of there, be back with the family, and hopefully gone as soon as possible on the next flight out.

In the end, the poor couple capitulated, signed the paperwork under duress, scooped up the kids, and caught the red eye flight out to Houston later than evening, where they spent the rest of their 'vacation'. But not before they saw Domingo in the lobby, as they were leaving, chatting it up with Carmen, in Spanish of course. Domingo seemed to notice them, bags packed, in a hurry to get away. "Señor, Señor, not so fast…" Jen's heart skipped a beat as big Domingo ambled over, broodingly… he reached in his coat pocket, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to her husband…"You almost forgot your tickets to the water park, Seńor."

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CHAPTER FOUR THE ESSENCE OF A TIMESHARE

Legal Theory Meets Practical Reality

What is a timeshare, really? No doubt, your timeshare developer sold it to you as a real estate 'investment'. Chances are good you were told that it would appreciate in value, that there were other investors 'waiting in the wings' to jump on the opportunity, and that they even had a 'resale' department in house to buy it back when if and when you wanted to sell.

By now you understand that these were a pack of lies. Not only can you not sell it, but you can't

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even get out from under the perpetual debt associated with continued ownership. And the reason for that: simply because it's a net liability. In this book we document the ways in which vacation 'ownership' makes absolutely no sense from a financial standpoint.

But at the most fundamental level, a timeshare is different from any other interest in 'real estate' that you could possibly have. Ostensibly, you have bought into a resort facility in the nature of a condominium, the unit owners of which have 1/52 divided interests in any given unit on an annual basis, as well as the common elements of the facility. This is in contrast to any other legal interest in deeded real estate, which invariably give you an undivided interest in the property. "Undivided" simply means that you have total access to the real estate all of the time, although it may often be shared with a spouse or other family member.

But even more fundamentally, all legalese aside, what have you really purchased? The right to occupy several hundred square feet in space at some elevation within the confines of some walls that currently exist, for a certain duration each year? Pretty ethereal stuff, huh (?), especially when you stop and think that the building itself is only temporary and depreciating as the clock ticks away.

But did you really get even that much? Stop for a minute (or more), and read the fine print of your contract. Better yet, I'll save you the time. Invariably, there will be some red tape in the contract in the nature of a 'floating use plan'. This floating use plan gives the timeshare developer the right, unilaterally (no one's saying that this is necessarily legal) to deny you access to your deeded unit and make you occupy another one. If you don't believe me, read the whole contract, top to bottom. It's in there, somewhere. Or, if your developer is still on the deed system at all, insist on occupying your unit this year during your vacation. Chances are good that you'll be disappointed.

And this is assuming that your timeshare developer is on the deed system at all. Most have converted to a system of 'points', the ownership of which is even more tenuous. More on this in

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Chapter 7.

So now we've reduced your legal interest in the timeshare purchase to, at best … the right to possibly occupy a certain unit at some elevation in space within four walls of a facility that currently exists, while it exists, for one week a year, in the discretion of the timeshare developer. We would suggest to you that such an interest is so tenuous, so ephemeral, that it's beginning to resemble, more and more, the last fading smile of that proverbial Cheshire cat.

Timeshare Philosophy: A Platonian Perspective

When you're forced to write a regular blog about timeshares, as we do as part of our marketing, you're always looking for fresh perspectives on what they really are and what if any merit there is to the concept. In the interest of avoiding endless repetition, sometimes you're even forced to reach a little. This is one of those times.

Plato was the first to articulate the concept of archetypical phenomena. At the risk of oversimplifying, an archetype in the platonian tradition is simply an idealized version of an object or abstraction. The archetype thus lacks physical substance, but represents instead the 'essence' of the thing conceptualized. In the platonian realm, seemingly 'real' objects are but penumbras - shadowy and flawed manifestations of their idealized archetypical essence. A platonian timeshare is a good thing. It has the appeal of ownership of one's own resort condominium property, uniquely accessible at least once annually in a desirable location or locations. It's not just a hotel room, but a condominium unit. Much larger, much nicer. You can't be there to take care of it most of the time, but you don't have to. Other people maintain it for you. Because you 'own' it, unlike a rental unit, you're actually invested in it. Thus you can rent it out or even sell it. And best of all, if you're on some kind of 'points' or exchange system, you can access dozens of similar resorts, each one more opulent than the one before, all over the world.

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A real timeshare, not to be confused with its archetypical counterpart, is not as good. Although you 'own' it, as a practical matter the resort developer has unique access to your 'ownership' information, especially contact data, as well as that of all the other 'owners.' This superior access to information allows the developer to circulate voting proxies, installing its own stooges onto the board of the owner's association. These insiders, in turn, hire an affiliate of the developer to manage the resort. The actual 'owners', who lack this critical contact information, are unable to galvanize meaningful opposition to the rigged process. Thus, resort 'maintenance' fees are higher than they would be for a standard condominium - higher by an order of magnitude. If you do some basic arithmetic, multiplying your one week annual dues by 52 weekly intervals, you'll see for yourself.

The penumbral timeshare also diverges from its philosophical counterpart in terms of accessibility. Those 'points' of access that sounded so good in theory are decidedly less appealing in practice. Especially since they keep selling more and more of them, without actually building anything new. They were supposed to get you to Hawaii, but now you can't even get to Hackensack.

Think of it as a hunt club. You bought into it first, and hunted to your heart's content. Trophy after trophy, meal after meal. Your garage freezer was stocked with venison. But after a season or two, you couldn't help but notice that your haul was diminishing. Maybe you get a stray yearling if you're lucky. Soon you'll be lucky to bag a rabbit. And who are these peculiar fellows in the lodge? Didn't you used to have the run of the place? Now you're sharing a room with some dude named Brutus. At this rate, next year you'll have to share a cot with him.

The platonian timeshare also differs from its real world version in terms of its 'investment' aspect. If Plato owned a timeshare, he would loosen his toga, and relax on his timeshare sofa. He'd rent it out every year he couldn't use it. And when he got a little older and didn't really use it at all, he'd sell it to someone younger with a family - Aristotle, perhaps. At a profit, no less. But

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you're not Plato, not Aristotle. Heck, you're not even Yogi Berra. You've tried to rent it. Lord knows you've tried to sell it. Maybe you should have majored in philosophy. Surely you would have steered a mile clear of this catastrophe.

And so the moral of the story is this: Philosophy can have practical applications. Also, timeshares are not good.

Case Study - Bubba and Daisy

Bubba was a journeyman construction foreman in West Virginia. He was a hardworking, honest man, and a veteran of two army tours overseas. He relied on his wife Daisy to keep track of all things financial, like paying the monthly bills, balancing the check book, and following up on funny little charges that might crop up from time to time on their bank statement. The kids were growing up way too fast, so about a year ago they had decided it was time to take a family vacation. But they had unwittingly bought into a timeshare plan following a sales pitch given during their stay in an Orlando area resort.

There developer had recently converted their deeded interest to 'points'. Daisy wondered how they could do this without her consent. Now that they were on the 'points' system now, she knew the family had to either use 'em or lose 'em. So Daisy called to book one of the resort destinations in their network. In spite of paying almost $400 per month, she was told that she couldn't return to the same resort. In fact, she couldn't stay at â&#x20AC;&#x2039;anyâ&#x20AC;&#x2039; of the resorts shown in the glossy photos that she still had from the sales pitch. Finally, after consulting with Bubba, she settled on the Wayfarer, mainly because it was located somewhere on the sea in California. Daisy had always wanted to go to California and see the Pacific Coast. Over and over she had seen the movies and shows about it, the sweet and salty aroma of the ocean, the shimmering water next to sugary sand set against the majestic backdrop of mountains off in the distance.

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They arrived at the airport in San Diego, and rented a car. Daisy made sure it had G.P.S, for they surely weren't back home anymore, and the last thing they needed was to lose their way. Bubba took the wheel, struggling to adjust to all the new technology. Teddy, 16, kept giving his pop unsolicited advice on how to use the device, but Bubba couldn't seem to pick up on it. Even Dixie piped up: "just type the address in Daddy." Finally, Daisy figured out how to set it. A robotic female voice began to advise them. "Take a legal u-turn as soon as possibleâ&#x20AC;Śnow take a slight right turnâ&#x20AC;Ś" and so on. Onto the busy freeway, they drove within sight of the Pacific ocean. Dixie begged them to stop, but Bubba was afraid of having to reset the G.P.S. again, and so they turned inland, as directed, and drove for many miles.

As they drove eastward, the beautiful coastal mountain landscape became drier and drier, until cactus plants hung low over the highway like so many hitch hikers. They were in the desert now. The G.P.S. told them to exit, and to exit again, and once again, until the freeway became a dusty back road.

Finally, and suddenly, as they wound through the desert landscape, through the valleys and over the hills, they were startled to behold massive body of water, looking so out-of-place that Bubba did a double-take. "What the devil?"

Perhaps they would be staying at a sea-side resort after all. The kids got excited. "Maybe they'll be chicks in bikinis" Teddy said. "And smoking hot surfer dudes!" said Dixie as well. Daisy frowned, though. There was something wrong with this picture

Bubba noticed a sign off in the distance. He slowed down as they wound around a curve down onto the alluvial plain just off the massive lake. In the fading light of dusk, it came slowly into focus: "The Salton Sea."

Daisy burst into tears. She had seen t.v. documentaries about this infamous place, artificially created by diverting the Colorado River into the middle of the Mojave desert, and then

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abandoned when it became so salty and toxic that even the fish fled, their dry skeletons littering the beaches.

Bubba tried to console her: "What's wrong Honey?... We're almost there. You said you wanted a seaside resort..."

But the rest, as they say, is history. The Wayfarer Hotel turned out to be a 1950s vintage fleebag motelâ&#x20AC;&#x2039; that had recently been reopened and then 'renovated', to 1960s standards. Alas, there was nothing to do there, and for the most part the family whiled away their vacation time driving aimlessly through the desert like feckless wanderers in search of some illusive oasis.

One morning, though, Bubba decided to drive to Laughlin, just across the Nevada border, to try his hand at blackjack. Daisy would join him, and the kids would hang out a the local water park. On the way, Daisy noticed a rattling from the engine of their rental Malibu. But Bubba's hearing had long since failed from the rattling of a machine gun. "Don't you hear that, Bub?" "Hear what, Hon?" "That rattlin' sound." "Say what?" "THAT RATTLIN!" "Come again?" That very second, a sound of some profound mechanical distress resounded from the engine, like the howling of woman in labor. Even Bubba heard it. They all jerked forward in their seats, straining the seatbelts, as the car slowed to a dead silent halt, save for the hissing of the boiling radiator. The Chevy had thrown a rod. They were in dessert now, as they had been for several days, but now its stark reality was beginning to sink in. And it did. 108 degrees in the shade, if you could find some.

The rest of this account might have been tragic if it hadn't been for a happy coincidence

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involving the elopement of a stock-boy from Winslow, AZ, with his debutante-wife, on their way to the Burning Man Event. And the fact is, that they just happened to be on that little back road, at that particular time.

On occasion, Bubba and Daisy still talk about it. By now, as scary as it was at the time, they can even look back and laugh. Their conversations generally go something like this: "Robert", (Bubba's given name), how could you?" "Easy babe, you wanted it..." "Wanted what, to break down in the dessert?" "No, to see the sea". "I wanted to see a real sea, not the Salton Sea." "Well, you got your wish, see Honey? "What the Heh..?" "You saw the Pacific. You saw the Salton. Now you've seen almost every sea there is to see." "Forget it, Bub..."

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CHAPTER FIVE TIMESHARE NOMENCLATURE

What's in a Name?

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet." Romeo and Juliet, Act II, scene 2

The nomenclature that we use effects our perception of the thing we're talking about. Consider the word 'sick'. At one time, it was used in standard English exclusively to describe a condition of infirmity. As time goes on, it has taken on an urbanized, colloquial character, to describe something that's "crazy, cool, insane". â&#x20AC;&#x2039;http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=sic. As in, "you could've been getting down to this 'sick' beat.'"â&#x20AC;&#x2039; Shake it off, Taylor Swift. Thus we have gone from an adjective with a decidedly negative definition, denoting a state of ill-health, to one with opposite meaning or denotation, at least in the world of slang. How or why this happened is anyone's guess.

Occasionally, however, changes to the nomenclature of something is deliberate. For example, sometimes things with a negative connotation will be renamed, even 'repackaged', in order to improve the image. Thus, 'problems' have become 'issues' or 'challenges'.

Remember when a used car was just a used car. Now they're 'pre-owned', or even 'certified pre-owned'.

This very thing has occurred with regard to timeshares. Over the years, for reasons discussed

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extensively in these pages, the word 'timeshare' has taken on a pejorative connotation. I recently heard a sportscaster on t.v., while plugging the merits of an idea, say it with the caveat that "I'm not trying to sell a timeshare, after all," or something to that effect. In any case, he was clearly trying to distinguish whatever it was that he was selling from something that you'd rather not buy. At least not if you know what you're buying.

Thus, in recent years timeshare developers have re-denominated their product as 'vacation ownership'. The concept of 'vacation ownership' is one that, during sales pitches, is often described in such abstract terms, solely to avoid saying the 't' word, that people literally have no idea what it is that they're being pitched. The concept is peppered with watch-words to like 'resort investment', or 'real estate investment', to help create the proper image.

You will rarely, if ever be told that you have to sit through a 'timeshare sales pitch' as an inducement to receive whatever incentives they're offering. Instead, it will be packaged as something like 'a hospitality industry investment'.

At the end of the day, though, it's a lot like tying the proverbial pink ribbon around the pig's tail. It's still an oinker.

The moral of the story, know what it is that you're getting into. Never buy it without reading the fine print. Whatever else it is, chances are it's a lot different than what you're being told. If you don't have the time or willingness to read it, simply don't buy it.

Uravelling the Pink Ribbon

There are a number of words euphemistically describing the concept of a 'timeshare'. These have been conjured up in recent years by crafty marketing types trying to avoid the increasingly negative connotation of the word. "Vacation Ownership" is one of them. As though you could actually 'own' a vacation. Think about it. The concept of a vacation is totally abstract - abstract as

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time itself. There exists absolutely no tangible aspect of it. You can no more 'own' it than you can own your time whittling wood, whistling Dixie, or sitting on the toilet. You're allotted a discreet number of days on earth, you know not how many. They're given at the behest of your Creator. At best, it's a kind of rental arrangement, or perhaps a stewardship. Anyone who thinks they 'own' their time on earth should try subleasing to someone more qualified to spend it. Another timeshare euphemism: Fractional Ownership. Okay, so not only is it totally abstract but you own only a fraction of it. A fraction of an abstraction. Kind of like owning only a percentage of some thought that occurred to you. Perhaps you can stake a claim to three percent (3%) of that daydream you had during lunch break. I'm thinking that this one might backfire on the developer's marketing man. It's fracking stupid. And yet it's still considered less pejorative that the word 'timeshare', otherwise it wouldn't be out there. And another one, courtesy of the Brits: Seasonal Ownership. This is British-babble for a European timeshare, usually somewhere in the south of Spain. The Brits are already notorious for beating around the bush. Leave it to our cousins across the pond to come up with some denomination so lame and vacuous that it's almost totally divorced from reality. We already discussed and dismissed the notion of owning anything of a temporal nature. But now they would have you owning not just a minute or two, not even just a week, but an entire season. I have to admit that this sounds better than owning a fraction of something. And I kind of get the thing about staying there during a certain time of year. This one gets a C-.

Regardless, what actually happens when you tie the proverbial pink ribbon around pig's tail? Maybe he gets a little more attention at the county fair. If he's in the show, maybe you'll even pin another ribbon on him, perhaps a blue one this time. Farmer Brown starts to swell up with pride. Heck, don't even call him a pig anymore, call him something else. A swine, perhaps, or a hog, better yet.

But at the end of the day, even if you drape him in garments of the gods, or dress him in sartorial

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splendor, you still don't have a horse, a cow, or even a goat. And your seasonal ownership is still just an oinker. And you'd be better off sending it off to the butcher.

Case Study - Ryan and Kiersten

Ryan and his fiancĂŠ Kiersten were vacationing in Cancun. Their relationship had been off-and-on for years, and they could never seem to commit to an actual wedding date or locale. Ryan, it seemed, had begun to take his appearance for granted. Kiersten was beginning to carp about little things that irked her, and petty disagreements would sometimes evolve into full-fledge fights. This vacation was to be a 'make or break' milestone in their relationship.

After getting in late and sleeping in at the Playa de Sol on the Caribbean, the couple brunched on huevos rancherosâ&#x20AC;&#x2039; at a resort cafe'. And then while Ryan was relieving himself in a lobby restroom, Kiersten preened over her compact mirror. Suddenly, an American couple accosted her, exclaiming what a 'coincidence' it was to see another American in such a remote place.

Bob and Gerty were from Mississippi. They appeared to be well-meaning, perhaps a little bit too effusive in their gladness to see other yanks, since the place seemed to be crawling with them, but still harmless. Once Ryan came from the bathroom, he tried to brush them off, but not before they had convinced he and Kiersten what a great deal they had gotten on free tickets to a local water park, and how she should do the same. Coincidentally (there's that word again), the tickets were available right there in the lobby. Bob and Gerty wisked our friends off to a lobby kiosk where the 'concierge' gave them the tickets. There was just one little caveat: They would have to sit through a brief presentation about the relative merits of some local real estate investment.

Ryan tried to beg out again, but Kiersten convinced him that they would 'never' fall for whatever it was they were selling, and the free tickets would be well worth the hour-long inconvenience. And so later that day they met a man named Carlos, who took them and about a dozen other

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couples on a shuttle bus from the resort to a local construction site, and some modular offices erected there. No cranes or heavy equipment yet, but ground was broken, and the work would begin in earnest 'in the next week or two', Carlos said.

The couple surmised that this was to be the 'real estate opportunity' touted. They were a little inland of the Playa, and with no sea breeze the heat was stifling. Beads of sweat burnished Ryan's brow. Not to worry, it was the middle of summer, and most of the year it was very 'temperate' Carlos assured.

And once they got inside, at least the offices were air conditioned, if a little stark. Led by Carlos, all the tourists ambled their way through the hallway to find themselves in a presentation area, of sorts, complete with a black board and projection screen. Glossy literature lined the tables, each facing the front of the room. And there were Bob and Gerty, too, though Ryan had never noticed them on the shuttle over. Gerty seemed as giddy as a school girl in anticipation of the dog and pony show about to start. Bob, for his part, took on the air of the shrewd business man as he played with an unlit cigar. "It's all about positioning yourself...cash flow is paramount...we'll see what they come up with...".

Several attractive young Mexican women shuffled in and out, actually waiting the tables, offering tapas, finger food, and yes, even â&#x20AC;&#x2039;cocktailsâ&#x20AC;&#x2039;. And best of all, it was totally 'complimentary'! Kiersten acquiesced, and began to munch and sip away. After all, it was free. But Ryan, with iron clad resolve, declined everything. He wasn't about to fall for any of this, and would simply sit for an hour and then walk out, washing his hands of it all.

Their waitress was "Conchita", a voluptuous young woman, and rather scantily clad. She began to dote over Ryan. "Aaaww... you no like our service...we make eet very nice for jooo...everthing free...." Kiersten was becoming a little irritated by now, and the couple began to squabble.

"Why can't you take your eyes off of that woman?"

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"Why do you start drinking so early?

"Why can't you just relax, we're on vacation, after all..." And on it went.

Even Gerty noticed, and was beginning to impose. "Now don't tear up the pea patch, honey..., let's just wait 'till they get down to the licklog,..." and other southern homilies. Ryan was becoming increasingly irritated, and the show hadn't even started. He began to wonder how he was going to get through even an hour of this. Finally, he capitulated, and ordered a drink. Conchita seemed ecstatic, hovering over him to make sure he savored every drop of the sweet and salty margarita, while Kiersten furrowed her brow, and threw down the rest of her cocktail.

Eventually, Carlos introduced "Frank", a plump, clean shaven man, with slick black hair, dressed in an expensive looking dark suit. Finally, he began to speak with a curious accent, a combination of Brooklynese and Mexican:

"What is the dream of every man...every woman... everyone who ever worked, worked, worked their lives away yearning for their own little piece of paradise, a place to relax, a place to unwind, a place to get away from it all, and most of all, a place that they actually can call their own, that no one can ever take away, their own little slice of heaven...and best of all, an investment in the future, that they can enjoy forever with their family...Sound too good to be true, well my friends, soon it will be if you don't jump on it, .... as God is my witness, there are people waiting in the wings for this opportunity, we're selling this real estate so fast that it'll may well be gone tomorrow.. and all because it's the hottest concept to come along in many years -- vacation ownership! You don't just rent it and just forget about it, you don't just dream about it..., you own it, ...you have title to it..are invested in it... it's there for you any time you want..." On and on he went, with this onslaught of salesmanship, this tour de force presentation, buttressed by an impressive slide show of the resort's opulent amenities, exotic features, and so

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on. Ryan decided to look around the darkened room. Kiersten was downing another cocktail. He looked back at Bob, who seemed to acknowledge him with a resolute nod, as if to say, "go for it". Gerty was almost swooning, apparently overwhelmed by the sheer, brute force of Frank's sales rhetoric.

And after a while, mercifully, it was over, for even Ryan was becoming soft. He had heard stories about this kind of thing before, and knew that they were playing him. The lights came on again. He got up, and was about to walk out, tugging at Kiersten, when he noticed that there a peculiar looking fellow at their side, "Arturo", a swarthy, sweaty little man with a brushy mustache, and a slow, drawling Mexican accent.

Arturo, when introducing himself, shook Ryan's hand so emphatically that it seemed he literally would not let go. He insisted that they accompany him in to a side office, and discuss the details of it. Ryan, finally freeing himself from Arturo's iron clad grasp, began to fight back. He wasn't about to buy a 'timeshare'. He would have no part of this. He had stayed on, fulfilled his part of the deal, and it was time to go. But wait, 'Seńor', this wasn't a 'timeshare' at all, no, no, no...far, far from it... this was vacation ownership ... infinitely different, infinitely better…. he wouldn't be 'investing' in this particular resort, he was buying points in a whole network of resorts, each one more exotic than the next, all over the world... "…can you only imagine (?), come on, I geeve you the details..." By now, Kiersten was really sauced, and was in no condition to resist. And suddenly, there was Conchita, tugging at Ryan's shirt sleeve, beckoning him along, with Arturo, to the quiet little office on the side.

For what seemed like eternity, Arturo finessed Ryan, often stepping out to confer with his 'manager' to address the issues with some new proposal, some new enticement, some new sweetening of the pot. While he did, invariably Conchita would show, plying him with more alcohol, while she hovered over, cleavage clinging - pure feminine guile. (Kiersten was all but

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passed out off to the side). And so it went on, hour after hour, they tag teamed him, trying to wear him down.

But Ryan was no wilting lily. In a last ditch act of defiance, he announced that he was ready to leave, got up, and stumbled across the room where he tried to rouse Kiersten. She came to herself a little, and also stood up, tenuously, but then staggered backward, and bashed her head on the wall. Now she was really out like a light. "Call an ambulance, for crying out loud, we have to get her to a hospital!"

But Arturo's beady eye's seemed to narrow to little slits: "Seńor, you don't understand, the ambulances don't come out here….now we can get jooor wife back to town, no problema, but first you have to sign on the dotted line…"

And the rest, as they say, is history. Suffice it to say that Ryan became the not-so-proud owner of a Mexican timeshare. He would pay on it for many years, religiously, for fear of ruining his credit, though he never actually went there. Kiersten never became obligated on it, of course, because she was almost brain dead. All in all, the vacation didn't exactly 'make' their relationship. Kiersten would eventually leave Ryan for a Hungarian stock boy. But not before they sat there in the Cancun International Airport, waiting for their flight, a seat between them, sulking. And then Ryan thought he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. It was Bob and Gerty, in the airport lounge, drinking some kind of toast with a beady-eyed, peculiar looking fellow.

Aaronson Law Group 2180 W. State Road 434, Suite 6136 Longwood, FL 32779

CHAPTER SIX TIMESHARE ADVERTISING (Or lack Thereof)

Normally you don't notice the absence of something unless it's a very prominent part of your life. So you would probably never have noticed the fact that there are no ads for timeshares, at least not in the mainstream media. We've noticed it, simply because we're involved with timeshares on a daily basis.

Think about it. Timesharing is a multi-billion dollar industry, and extremely lucrative. You would expect to see extensive advertising. But this is simply not the case. So why are there no ads for timeshares? It really all comes down to one simple issue: Credibility. Or the lack thereof. To be clear, it is simply impossible to tell the truth about a timeshare, and then expect the customer to actually purchase one.

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A little background is necessary to appreciate this. Once upon a time, marketing types engaged copiously in a practice known as 'puffing.' Puffing was just a euphemism for lying, created by legal apologists for the advertising industry.

And although the term 'puffing' was never intended as a pun, it was perfectly exemplified in the advertising and marketing of the tobacco industry prior to about 1960. Until about that time, ads touting the relative merits of cigarette smoking - including its health benefits - could be seen on network television. Even commercials with phony doctors plugging smoking as some kind of elixir were relatively common.

More recently, however, consumer protection statutes and FTC regulations have reduced flagrant puffing to a considerable extent. So would-be puffers now run the risk of civil litigation by private parties, competitors, or an attorney general, if they are caught prevaricating. And all of this has led to an interesting media marketing dynamic that has really evolved only in the past decade or so -- on-air disclaimers. You cannot help but notice all of the verbal disclaimers that you will hear, if you listen at all, during waning seconds of a car commercial, for example. The manufacturer or dealer will trumpet the blockbuster financing deals on its car. But then toward the end of the ad the narrator, reading the proverbial 'fine print', begins to talk faster and faster about the actual terms and conditions of their lease or finance agreement, so fast that he is virtually unintelligible. Much faster, even, than a cartoon chipmunk.

This concern about legal exposure has curtailed false representations in pharmaceutical marketing to such an extent that you can't help but wonder who would ever dream of actually taking these drugs. Surely you've seen it. The television ad effusively presents the incredible benefits of some new wonder drug. Imagery includes happy, healthy looking people doing some wonderful, active things, like jogging down a sunny tree-lined road. Even the music sounds healthy. But then something odd happens. The cheerful, upbeat background music continues, and the people keep jogging down the same road, but the narrator takes a turns down the dirty back road. He begins to disclose, under compulsion, the numerous drug 'side effects'. And these

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'effects' almost invariably seem to include debilitating maladies, chronic illnesses, and even death. Remarkably, doctors still prescribe, and patients still take, these medications.

In light of all this, now consider a product that is so inherently flawed, so bereft of meritorious benefit, that it literally can't even be advertised. At all. But this is precisely what you get with a timeshare. Simply put, no sane, reasonably informed individual would buy into a timeshare obligation. But you won't catch any TV ad man reading the fine print, so you're going to have to do it yourself. And chances are you're already home, and it's a little late for that. You'll notice that the timeshare developer may or may not let you access 'your' unit, once a year, its discretion, assuming that it's not overbooked, and provided that you have enough 'points'. Read on, and you'll choke - you can't re-sell that unit after all - not like the nice salesman said - not without the consent of the developer. And what's this(?), further down, some disclaimer about 'no resale market'? But you will only find this out if you read the fine print of the contract. Don't expect the salesman to shout it from the rooftops. And don't look for it on TV.

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CHAPTER SEVEN TIMESHARE POINTS

The Reality behind the "Points" System of Timeshare Ownership

The concept of a timeshare 'point' is an interesting one. The 'points' system was created in order to circumvent certain innate restrictions on timeshare sales created by the necessity of recording deeds as a matter of public record. This public disclosure effectively prevented developers from

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selling a given unit more than 52 times in the average case. Thus, once a given resort was sold out, the developer had no choice but to build new facilities in order to keep on selling. Undeterred, the developers, particularly Diamond Resorts International and Wyndham, came up with a brilliant if disingenuous notion. Market the timeshare not at a specific location, but rather as a generic 'ownership' interest in all of their resorts. This concept, on the surface, can be made to sound far more appealing than a single deeded interest in a specified unit to which one must return time after time. Indeed, they are selling vacation ownership, not timeshares. Posh, opulent destinations all over the world. Thus, this was a brilliant marketing coup. And voila, in the ultimate serendipity for the developer, they are now free to overbook with impunity, selling the same 'point's interests in the same resorts again and again, because the developer doesn't have to record deeds anymore. No building required. Some dissembling, perhaps, but no building.

Now, for a moment, try to imagine these points as a kind of currency. After all, that's how they're being touted. So now, many or most developers have gone to the points system. There even exists points 'exchanges' or 'networks', concepts implying a free market trading environment where points are bought and sold at arm's length like other investment securities with intrinsic value. But this notion is fundamentally flawed, for many reasons:

Initially, RCI, Interval, and other points exchange networks, unlike an actual exchange network in investment securities, do not trade interchangeable 'points' given through other developers. Thus, there exists no financial mechanism to convert the value of a Wyndham 'point' to that of an Diamond, Bluegreen, or Silverleaf 'point'. Also, the value of a 'point' with any given developer is almost completely arbitrary, and thus cannot be commoditized. Moreover, these 'points' lack positive innate value, i.e., they involve a liability component (financing costs and annual dues) that generally exceeds the value of whatever benefit that they confer.

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This is apparent from the fine print of RCI's disclosure statement, revealing the following: Network privileges may be suspended, terminated or denied, or a Confirmed Exchanged cancelled at the Network Administrator’s sole discretion if a Member’s Vacation Ownership Expenses or other charges have not been paid when due.

Thus, unlike other investment securities, which are generally bought and paid for, you must continue to pay for your points. If you don't, you'll simply lose them.

There are a number of unofficial 'exchanges', run by third parties, which purport to broker RCI and other points like stocks and bonds. These carry no sanctioning by RCI or any other entity of any kind, and are generally rife with fraud. Another piece of information from the RCI disclosure statement: Because vacation exchange is used intermittently as an adjunct to Vacation Ownership, potential Vacation Owners should select a Resort that best meets their ongoing vacation needs. A Member’s decision to purchase Vacation Ownership should be based primarily upon the benefits to be gained from the ownership, use and enjoyment of the Vacation Ownership and not upon the anticipated benefits of the RCI Points Exchange Program. RCI is not responsible for the financial viability or the quality of accommodations, facilities, amenities, management and services at any Resort, Inventory provider or Points Partner.

In other words, the points don't represent an 'investment', properly speaking. Nor are the points necessarily going to get one anywhere else in the 'network', so he or she should really like the 'host' resort.

Finally, and perhaps most damningly, the very reason for the invention of the 'points' system involved the inability to easily overbook while on a deed system. Needless to say, the practice of selling potentially unlimited points in a finite number of resort units is incredibly dilutionary. It's like minting money arbitrarily, with no backing, no standard to adhere to. Or issuing unlimited

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stock backed by a company's limited assets.

That is why the ten thousand points you bought just a few years ago can't get you to Maui anymore. Heck, you can't even get to Hoboken. And at the rate they're selling them, in a year or two you'll be lucky to get to the outhouse.

Case Study - Rick and Bonnie

Rick and Bonnie were empty-nesters living in Philly. The 'kids' were grown now, Rachel and Tommy, out in the work force, with lives of their own. But your children are always your kids, and Bonnie missed them terribly. She kept leaning on Rick to arrange an extended family vacation.

"Our door's always open. They're welcome to come see us any time," was Rick's standard retort.

"It's not the same. They don't want to come back here and be treated like kids again. We need to get out somewhere together on a â&#x20AC;&#x2039;realâ&#x20AC;&#x2039; vacation. What about that timeshare we never use?" Finally, Rick gave in. Bonnie called the kids, and they coordinated their schedules. Rick had been paying forever, year in and year out, for that timeshare they hadn't used since the kids were still in their teens. He went online to look at his list of resort options. Finally, he called his developer to try and arrange something.

"We'd like to stay in Carlsbad, California at the Playa del Sol" "I'm so sorry, but you don't have enough points." "Points? We have a deed." "I apologize, but that resort was bought out recently. It's under new management, and we're now on the points system."

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"Does my deed convert to points?" "Yes. 10,000 points." "Okay. Well, that sounds like a lot. I can't get back to Carlsbad for that?" "No sir. That would require more points?" "How many more? "Two hundred thousand more." "Well where can I go with 10,000 points?"

"Destinations include the Salty Dog Inn located in Yellow Knife, the Truncheon Club Hotel located in Saskatoon, and the Motel 7 located in Fargo."

"How much do I have to pay to get 200,000 points? "Ten cents a point". "That doesn't sound so bad, but wait, that's ….$20,000 - this is highway robbery…you take my deed away, and now you want $20,000 just to give me back what I already bought and paid for…?"

" We do have available wonderful upgrades for only 70,000 more points." "Upgrades? I had a deed. A deed. I want my deed back."

"You would have to take that up with our legal department Sir." "What, and hire a lawyer to deal with them? Where can 70,000 more points get me? Somewhere warm, I hope."

"The Rainwater Resort on Monsoon Bay, the Himalayan in Altoona, the …"

Eventually Rick settled on Monsoon, if only because it was supposed to be warm there. Little did

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he realize at the time that it's located in India.

And so the family vacation turned out to be more expensive than Rick had hoped. In fact, he almost had to take out a mortgage to pay for the 70,000 points. Plus, airfare to India, for the entire family, set him back another $10,000. Suffice it to say that Rick is not about to retire any time soon.

And as the name would imply, it turned out to be monsoon season, raining continually through the family stay. But at least they got some quality time in at close quarters. So close, in fact, that the 'kids' began to squabble, just like in old times, when they'd cram into the car for weekend road trips to Atlantic City.

On the flip side, Bonnie no longer badgers Rick to take a family vacation. She seems to have gotten over it. On a lark, Rick recently decided to try and book another vacation through the developer, by himself. A vacation from his vacation, in essence.

"Your 80,000 points can get you to the Salty Dog Inn located in Yellow Knife, the Truncheon Club Hotel located in Saskatoon, and the Motel 7 located in Fargo.

"What about the Himalayan in Altoona, or even the Monsoon? We just stayed there…."

"That will require another 50,000 points." "Aughhh…What else can I get with the points I own? Somewhere warm, at least?" " Summer season options include the Hardscrabble Hostel in Waco, the Swamp Lodge in Okeechobee, ...the Cactus Tavern in Laredo, …."

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CHAPTER EIGHT WHO BUYS TIMESHARES

In our law practice assisting aggrieved timeshare owners, we see all kinds of clients from every walk of life. Among people who have contacted us seeking relief are doctors, lawyers, politicians, engineers, scientists, and even a news anchorman. In short, we have intelligent, educated people approach us to help with their timeshare situation(s), with recriminations like "I can't believe that I actually fell for this". Why do smart people sometimes do stupid things?

There is a highly refined methodology to timeshare sales that is deeply rooted in the psychology of human interaction. It begins with the notion that you have accepted something from the sellers as a 'gratuity'. Free tickets to Disney, perhaps, or a discounted cruise. Thus, the prospect is already 'beholden' to the provider of hospitality. After all, you 're enjoying yourself on someone else's nickel. The least you could do is to show a little appreciation.

Next, you are already on vacation. Empirical studies prove that you are likely to spend more money for the same items while vacationing, and to buy things that you would not otherwise buy. That's why there are very few gift shops located in downtown Hackensack.

A third element to this is the locale and 'atmosphere' of the point of sale. It's often in a posh resort destination, perhaps with friendly people wearing Hawaiian shirts bringing refreshments, snacks, etcâ&#x20AC;Ś This is a mechanism to make you feel even further in 'debt' to the seller, and to slowly erode your natural defenses in the most laid back possible environment.

The idea is that of a relaxed, stress-free time away from it all. It is no time for haggling, negotiation, or high-stress confrontation. In this laid-back setting, our natural psychological defenses are lowered. We become more gullible, more likely to say yes, especially if it means avoiding the stress of disappointing the nice sales lady who has spent hours trying to improve

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our quality of life.

Even if the sales pitch turns confrontational, it is still much easier to say 'yes', if for no other reason than to get out of the room after hours of stressful interaction. Again, this is supposed to be vacation. It's time to get out on the beach, back to the pool, the bar, or the golf course. Anywhere but there, stuck in a little room mulling over the relative merits of some dubious investment.

Plus, it's so far from home. This may be Mexico, Florida, Arizona, or the Caribbean. Whatever it is, it's not where we're from. If there a problem, it's a local one. It seems somehow less likely to follow us back to a place like Omaha.

And there's yet another element, particularly in Mexico and the Caribbean: Alcohol. In point of fact, south of the border, it's standard operating procedure for the developer's sales minions to ply hapless prospects with free and abundant libations to break down their defenses.

And that is why, and how, smart people sometimes do stupid things. But there is a certain segment of society commonly targeted by unscrupulous timeshare developers - specifically, the elderly. http://www.civicresearchinstitute.com/online/article_abstract.php?pid=17&iid=845&aid=5589. Why is this?

For starters, the elderly are often ensconced in the older cities of the northeast, on fixed incomes, weathering long difficult winters without much of a break for months. Timeshare developers are savvy, if nothing else. They realize that, especially for this older demographic, the prospect of a dramatically discounted vacation cruise, airline tickets to Florida, or any kind of relief from the elements sounds very attractive. Accordingly, timeshare marketing is especially focused to recruit the elderly.

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Often these older prospects don't appreciate the catch 22 that goes hand-in-hand with these incentives, i.e., the necessity of sitting through a sales pitch. "Sales pitch", of course, is something of a misnomer. The degree of pressure brought to bear on sales prospects during this process is often overwhelming. Moreover, many timeshare sales reps are, frankly, unscrupulous. They will stop at nothing to transact the sale, even if it means flagrant misrepresentations. See Chapter 3 about sociopaths and actors as timeshare salesmen. Though this is purely anecdotal, many older Americans will tell you that there was actually a time in the not-to-distant past, when a person's word was his or her bond. There was less anonymity, less mobility, and shameless lying was simply not tolerated and would invariably, ultimately catch up with the liar. This was the society that produced the greatest generation, that won World War II, and its immediate offspring. But this is also the very generation that overwhelmingly buys timeshares, and the tendency to take promises at face value, to take people at their word, and generally trust the people with whom one deals, can lead to vulnerability.

A recent study found that citizens over 65 are disproportionately the victim of crimes involving identity theft or fraud. http://www.victimsofcrime.org/docs/ncvrw2013/2013ncvrw_stats_elder.pdf This vulnerability has lead to the enactment of legislation in many state that stiffen the penalties for anyone exploiting the elderly. Florida Statute § 825.103, for example, criminalizes some offenses perpetrated against the elderly involving mismanagement or misappropriation of funds.

Case Study - Brandon and Shia

Brandon was a studious man of thirty years, working as a finance manager with a dealership in Kansas City. "Studious" at work, but pretty balanced in general. He and Shia went through a whirlwind courtship after meeting online. She was the gregarious type, and loved her job as a hair stylist, whiling away her days engaged in some juicy new gossip, some new intrigue, as she snipped away at the scalps of her clients. Her outgoing personality seemed to compliment

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Brandon's laid back personality.. And though it was true that Shia could be a little flighty at times, perhaps even a little snarky on occasion, still Brandon wasn't getting any younger. His biological clock was ticking, and it was time to settle down. And so now they were newlyweds, literally just married, leaving the church ceremony. Brandon's company car was covered in shaving cream, whipped cream, and even some toothpaste. Giddy, they drove from the St. Albans church in Kansas City with rice in their hair, and tin cans rattling from the back of the ride. Directly on to the airport they drove, parked, made out like teenagers, and flew off to Miami. After a night at the Hiftgorse Hotel, they set sail the next morning on a ten day Caribbean Cruise, with ports of call in San Juan, Martinique, Antigua, and other exotic places. This was the perfect beginning to their exciting new lives together. After a couple of days at sea, they finally arrived in San Juan. Brandon wanted to take the guided tour sponsored by their cruise-line, but Shia just rolled her eyes. "This isn't our golden anniversary, Bran. How 'bout a little spontaneity…hello?". And so it was that they began wandering the streets of the old city. As they ambled along the sidewalks, venders would accost them from the storefronts of quaint old coquina buildings. There's no disguising a tourist. This went on for a bit, but Brandon was getting hungry. He suggested that they stop for a treat at Dunkin Donuts. "Bran, this is San Juan…hello, we're not in Kansas anymore…". This was Shia's way of nixing the idea. They came out of the maze of side streets onto a large plaza, crossed over a grassy square, and found themselves in a heavily trafficked area littered with sun-burned tourists. Brandon noticed the tour-bus they were to have taken parked in a reserved spot. After a few more nixed dining suggestions, it was getting toward lunch time, and a little man coaxed them into a quaint but trendy looking café called El Serpiente, promising free coffee and tapas. The ambience was that of a tropical jungle, with scantily clad Latin waitresses, dressed like Tarzan's Jane, waiting tables of yuppies. "Angelita" was there's: "Joo've come to right place, Señor, we make joo' soooo' happy here.." she gushed. Shia furrowed her brow. Angelita was just a little too effusive for her tastes. Plus, she seemed to be doting on Brandon. After they finished a round of coffee, and some finger food, she

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reappeared, this time with a surprise: "We've complemeeentary rum-runners for joo, all on house. Enjoy!!!!". Wow. Free coffee, tapas, and now even complimentary cocktails. And it was only about noon. Brandon began to wonder where all this was leading. But Shia downed a drink straight away. Maybe it was her way of drowning her indignation with Angel, Ang, ..whatever her name was. And after a drink or two, Bran relaxed too. He even started to needle his bride a little. "I guess you're right, Shi, this ain't exactly Kansas." " If you don't take your eyes off that woman you'll be wishing it was." "Aww, come on sweetheart, you’re the only star in my sky…" "You'll be seeing stars alright.." Just then, Brandon noticed that the couple at the next table seemed to be listening in. Embarrassed, he implored Shia to keep her voice down. But it was too late. "It's okay, we're on vacation too. We don't take anything too seriously here.. Ha ha, ha ha ha, ha…ha…" these were the words of "Percy", who with his wife Stella, began to engage our newlyweds in casual conversation. Brandon gathered that Stella and her husband were from Muskogee, and worked in some not-too-well-defined real estate venture. "That's right honey, but right now we're just here to have fun..., fun fun fun, ah ha ha...!" Stella added. After a while, and a few more rum-runners, they convinced Brandon and Shia to join them in the VIP lounge. It was going to be something about an investment opportunity. Following Percy and Stella, our newlyweds shuffled their way through the rear of the restaurant, past the rest rooms, and through a darkened hallway leading to a door opening into a bright, massive hotel lobby, and then into some kind of convention area. The "VIP" lounge turned out to be more like a seminar room, with tables in rows facing the front, and a slide show projector facing a screen on the wall. Not exactly what they expected. There was a copious stock of alcohol, though. Captain Morgan seemed to be the rum of choice, and his sinister grin graced the face of bottle labels lining the shelves on every wall. "This isn't quite what I expected, ah.., Percy. I thought we were going to the bar for some quiet discussion..."

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This comment seemed to throw Percy off a little, but Stella quickly interjected: "Not to worry, Honey, this is all part of the fun...After all, making money is fun too, and you're about to see just how much fun we're having doing it....". Stella seemed to be running interference for her husband. Brandon was inclined to walk away from it - something seemed amiss. "I think this is where we beg off Stella, this is all happening a little too fast..." But suddenly the Okies had a new ally, as Shia, now visibly intoxicated, piped up: "Ah Bran, this won't take long - what, you said about thirty minutes Perce (?) - what do we have to lose, besides the drinks are still comiplentary, compli, com, ah ... free, right?" "You bet they're free sweetheart..". Percy affirmed. He was getting his sea legs again. "Are we having fun yet?"...ha ha ha...ha ha ha...ha ha ha.....!!! So they took their place with a couple of dozen others. The booze was really flowing, now, and Shia was engaged in banter with "Perce" and "Stell". She was beginning to make bawdy little comments, and Brandon worried that she would embarrass them. Shia: "And so Stell, Mickey and Minnie were in divorce court, and Minnie's lawyer indignantly asked Mickey if he had said Minnie was stupid, but Mickey replied: 'I didn't say she was stupid, I said she was f'g Goofy'..ha ha ha...ha ha ha...ha ha ha...HA ha ha..." Brandon blushed a little. He downed another rum-runner to drown the embarrassment. By now, he was at least as sauced as his wife. But they weren't in Kansas anymore, and chances are he would never see anyone there again. On the other hand, were'nt some of the faces familiar...where had he seen these people before (?), ... these were some of his increasingly disjointed thoughts as he began to lose it, and to lapse further and further into a state of utter inebriation, a timeshare wasteland. He must have downed another drink or two. Or maybe not, he couldn't be sure. The rest of it he couldn't recall when he awoke the next morning in their state room back on board. There was only some vague sense of foreboding that something had gone very, very awry. It took Brandon another day to get over the hangover. Shia may never get over hers. A couple of weeks later, back in Kansas City, reality arrived in the form of a bill containing a $459 monthly timeshare finance fee, and a $1,759 annual dues

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statement. To this day, Shia still rides him about the whole affair. Any discussion of money is particularly taboo. It doesn't take much to trigger a tongue lashing. An offhanded little comment about the cost of gas, perhaps. He notices first that the muscles in her neck start to tighten a little, and he begins to cringe. Next, the veins on her forehead begin to stand out, and her face reddens. By this time, he knows there will be hell to pay: "How could you ever have allowed this, Brandon. You *%$#@, you sweep me off my feet, and then strip me down to my birthday suit... We're almost f'g bankrupt. You're supposed to be a financial whiz. What the devil...you...., " and some other choice words. Brandon, for his part, has long since learned that there's no winning a fight with your wife. The most he can hope for is not to trigger a tirade. And when he sees another episode coming on, he's learned with passing time how to partially diffuse it. But for the most part, he simply suffers in silence until the wrath of the tempest abates, eventually blowing itself out. The moral of the story: Timeshares can strain relationships.

Aaronson Law Group 2180 W. State Road 434, Suite 6136 Longwood, FL 32779

CHAPTER NINE TIMESHARE DISINGENUITY

Irregularities

Recently we had occasion to request an accounting statement to justify the assessment of annual maintenance dues for a large timeshare developer. What we found out was interesting. This developer was able to justify, at least on paper, the assessment of annual dues equating to over twenty â&#x20AC;&#x2039;millionâ&#x20AC;&#x2039; dollars ($20,000,000) for one, 576 unit resort. Of course, this number defies belief, so we took a close look at the figures. This is what we found out: 1.The resort is overbooked - we surmise that all deeded interests have been sold and yet the Developer continues to sell 'points' interests in the Resort; 2. Apparently the developer is replicating claims for 'management' fees and possibly other items; 3. The Developer continues to control the Association and thus the management group, which is itself an arm of the developer, even though the accounting indicates that the resort is substantially sold out to private

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individuals.

The rationale given in the developer's annual report is less than compelling: It is apparent that the interval owners simply do not contest the proxy proposals for election to the owners association board, the members of which are controlled by the developer, and thus management control by the developer persists with no meaningful cross-checks and balances. Hence the kind of financial abuses reflected in the 'accounting'. Indeed, this developer's annual report with the SEC reflects that seldom if ever has it been supplanted from management of its 'own' resorts.

You will recall that when timeshares originated, the legal structure defining one's interest in the resort was to first create a standard condominium. This entails ownership of the inner walls of a given unit and their interior confines. The owner thereof then shares an "undivided" interest in the common elements of facility, including all of the amenities. This ownership is 'undivided' in the sense that every owner has complete access to all. The timeshare concept took this legal structure a step further: One's ownership of a given unit is an undivided interest to access it during a given time annually. Because this interest was deeded, it was characterized a real property - real estate. This has a number of implications, including the necessity of recording the deed(s) in the public property records for the county where located. The 'transparency' created by publicly recording deeds to each given unit can create problems for an unscrupulous timeshare developer. Legally, it makes it impossible to overbook the units - to sell a given unit more than 52 times over in the typical case.

Not to be deterred, some developers have created new and novel ways in order to get around this, particularly the 'points' system of ownership. This allows, though not lawfully, the developer to require a prospective buyer to purchase 'points' of accessibility - the more points purchased the more access one has to the resort or resorts bought into. By requiring one to buy points, the developer has now circumvented the restriction on how many times an interest in a given unit can be sold. On information and belief, units can be, and indeed are sold in some instances

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hundreds of times over.

The problem with this from a legal standpoint is that the developer has further restricted access to the already limited facilities, even to those who bought in on the deed system. In effect, this arrangement has unlawfully divested the deeded owners of a portion, if not all, of their interest in a given unit. If this doesn't concern you as a timeshare patron, it should.

In addition, your developer in many cases has not only divested you of your deeded interest in the timeshare, but it continues to sell the same interval on the points system, further restricting your vacation access and devaluing your property. But there is another affected party. Our records indicate that at least one Timeshare Developer collects these points system revenues, including annual dues specifically earmarked for 'property taxes' without paying a dime on them.

It was clear in the accounting statement that the developer is illegally collecting millions of dollars of funds allocated for property taxes, even from 'points system' owners, despite paying nothing to the tax collector.

Case Study - Ahkmed and Family

Ahkmed was a humble sheet metal worker from Kazakhstan, living in Buffalo. He and his wife Sasha and their three girls, Sheba, Shelly, and Shara, were ready to book a vacation through their timeshare developer. When they first bought into their 'vacation ownership plan', a big part of the allure was the opulence of the Hawaiian Hula resort facilities that they had stayed at on a discount package deal. They were told that they could return to this resort, or book at any number of similar resorts throughout the world.

'Rudy', a customer service rep, took Ahkmed's call. He informed Ahkmed that he had insufficient points to book at the Hula, or any of the other premier resorts for that matter. "But they told me I had access everywhere?"

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"Did you read the contract before you signed it?" "I didn't have time, I thought I read the important parts, they told me thatâ&#x20AC;Ś" "With your points, you qualify for some of our locations, including the Harlequin, the Mayflower, the Pickwick, â&#x20AC;Ś."

Eventually Ahkmed settled on the Bombay Resort in lovely Galveston, Texas. They flew into Houston, arriving late. The kids were tired and weary. By almost 11 p.m., they finally rented a car with GPS for the drive over to the coast. The GPS took them off the highway, through an industrial area, over a bridge, and eventually down a winding little road on the inland side of Galveston Island. Before they finally arrived, they were so far off the beaten path that they were driving on limerock.

The 'hotel' was rustic at best. It was a stark, block building, seemingly built in the 1950s. Resort amenities included a little cumquat grove, a garden of thistles, and a dog walk. At the front desk, "Franco", a chubby, goateed little man, processed their check-in, laying down a list of rules regulating their stay, including the leashing of all dogs. "But we don't have a dog". "Well if you get one, be sure and leash him". "We didn't know this was a dog-oriented resort". "Well now you know."

They could always spend most of their time at the beach, Ahkmed thought. Sasha agreed. That evening they dined at the resort restaurant, a ramshackle little honky-tonk called the Scuttlebutt. The place was rowdy, booze flowed freely, the women seemed fast, and Sasha was concerned about the girls, so they walked back to the room on empty stomachs, too exhausted to go out again.

On the way through the courtyard a little chihuahua must have escaped his leash, and took out after them, yapping at their heels. This caused a general din of barking throughout the courtyard.

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Soon the entire resort resounded of barking, howling hounds, as Ahkmed and family broke into a run. Finally they reached the room, settled down, settled in, and all was relatively calm.

The room consisted of two double beds. For a family of five, this was a problem. They called the front desk. Soon Franco, a one man band, arrived with a grungy little cot. And so Ahkmed, Sasha and the girls settled down for a quiet evening. Sheba, the oldest, drew the cot. Sleeping should be no problem, at least.

Around 3 p.m., Ahkmed thought he felt something crawling up his leg. Alarmed, he jumped up, knocking over a lamp before he could finally turn the lights on. He threw back the covers, only to find some kind of insect fleeing, scuttling under the mattress. Sasha and the girls looked on with bated breath. Slowly, gingerly, Ahkmed lifted the mattress from the box spring. There they beheld hundreds of bedbugs infesting the surface, each of them scurrying for cover of darkness under the bed.

Sasha burst into tears, and all three girls joined her. Sheba tearfully complained of itching on her leg, which was beginning to swell.

Back at the front desk, Ahmed threatened to call the authorities. Franco told him to go ahead, but also made some passing reference to his cousin Guido. "Are you making a threat?" "I'd call it more like a promise." "I demand a refund. This paperwork we have guarantees an enjoyable stay, or your money back." "You know what you can do with that, right?" Ahkmed, ever the gentleman, could barely keep it together: "No. Exactly what are you trying to tell me?" "I'm telling you to fold it five times and stick it where the sun don't shine."

Aaronson Law Group 2180 W. State Road 434, Suite 6136 Longwood, FL 32779

And so it was that Ahkmed and family checked out that very night, refundless. They spent the rest of their vacation in a Motel 6 in Beaumont, with a panoramic view of the local oil refineries. But not before poor Sheba spent the next night in the hospital, having had an allergic reaction to the bed bug bite. It all made Ahkmed wonder if he should have stayed in Kazakhstan.

CHAPTER TEN HOW TO CANCEL A TIMESHARE

The Necessity of Legal Representation

This is, after all, the $64,000 question - the essence of what this office is all about. These steps are not the 'proprietary' version, but a generic rendition of what can be done in the interest of

Aaronson Law Group 2180 W. State Road 434, Suite 6136 Longwood, FL 32779

extricating you from a difficult situation. First, let's start with what not to do: 1. Don't try to sell it through some third party. Any one telling you that he or she can 'sell' your timeshare is almost invariably a scammer. They are not licensed realtors, who work on a commission basis, and will always ask for substantial money 'up front.' They will then purport to guarantee a sale, often to someone already identified with a name like William Smith, or the like, who could be anyone. You would be better off investing your money at the local kennel club. At least there would be some chance for a return.

2. Never, ever, hire any non-lawyer to do the job. A non-lawyer is, by definition, a lay person when it comes to representing you in an area involving legal ramifications. He or she lacks the ability to create leverage in negotiating a cancelation. That is to say, a lay person cannot sue the timeshare developer on your behalf. If the proposal to rescind your timeshare has no teeth to it, it's just that - a proposal - a request, in essence, and a feeble one at that. Almost invariably, these people will take your money - all of it - up front, 'guaranteeing' a rescission, and you'll not hear from them again, at least not in any fashion that can result in a release of liability. They may purport to deed your property to another, and perhaps even the developer itself, but this does not release you of liability on any instrument of debt that you undoubtedly signed.

Now that we've got that straight, let's discuss how properly to go about it: 1. Create leverage. We've already told you that you need this. If the developer does not cooperate, it has to know that there are potential consequences. A licensed attorney will have the ability to sue on your behalf. Sometimes it is even a good idea to draft a civil lawsuit, serve it on the developer, assuring that you will file it if a reasonable response is not forthcoming. There are any number of things that the developer's reps may have done wrong in the sales process, including but not limited to fraud in the inducement, which generally cannot be waived contractually. These are legal nuances that a competent attorney is able to address.

Aaronson Law Group 2180 W. State Road 434, Suite 6136 Longwood, FL 32779

2. Be civil. It is better to use the stick and the carrot. There are often compelling, equitable reasons why cancellation of a timeshare is appropriate. Medical or financial hardship are usually the most compelling grounds. Understand that you are dealing with real people, after all, and they deserve to be treated with respect. Often lawyers threaten with fire and brimstone. This can be counterproductive, creating a circle-the-wagons mentality, and resulting in a backlash by management who resolve to dig in and fight to the end. A more nuanced approach involving a discussion of extenuating circumstances making it difficult or impossible for you to access your timeshare and enjoy it as expected, is generally better.

3. Know the lay of the land. It is beneficial to have a feel for the policies and preferences of a given developer. Know the criteria that they use to evaluate the case. Do they require a pay off? Is there an administrative charge? Is there a specific point of contact there with whom you can hold a more meaningful dialogue? These are just some of the factors that come into play.

4. Be prepared to back up your demands. If a given developer is not cooperative or reasonable in dealing with the issues, you must be prepared and willing to initiate a lawsuit. We can often litigate your case more cost effectively because we have many clients with similar, recurrent issues. This 'economy' of scale means less time and money on any given issue, as it has generally been briefed and addressed in the same or previous cases.

5. Protect your credit. This is perhaps the single most important aspect of any given case. Federal law provides for specific ways in which you can invoke credit protection legislation, involving communication with the major credit bureaus to neutralize any negative reporting while your dispute is pending.

Please call us free of charge if you would like to further discuss ways in which we can help you with your timeshare issues.

Aaronson Law Group 2180 W. State Road 434, Suite 6136 Longwood, FL 32779

Case Study - Mort and Vera

Mortimer was a career g-man, a cartographer working the graveyard shift at the Defense Mapping Agency in a musty old building with no windows, just outside of D.C. The work was safe and secure, but not exactly scintillating. He would sit quietly in his cubicle, hour after hour, calibrating his instruments, and using them to measure points of reference in digital maps against geodetic data from satellite observations.

One evening while struggling to focus, he inadvertently knocked over his coffee, which ran over the edge of his desk directly into a seam at the top of his computer, and fried the motherboard. He decided it was time for a vacation. Vera, Mort's wife of 25 years, was ecstatic. It had been â&#x20AC;&#x2039;yearsâ&#x20AC;&#x2039; since they traveled together. She emailed their daughters in Orlando, asking for suggestions. Robin, the younger daughter was also excited for her mom. She phoned her right away, and inundated her poor mom with suggestions of exotic destinations. Later she emailed Vera with a link to the a discounted week long stay at a resort in Rio. Vera conferred with Mort, the price was right, and they jumped on it.

When they arrived in Brazil after the long flight, the front desk at the Copa Cabana directed them to "Priscilla" at the concierge desk. Priscilla, true to her name, was exceedingly affected, even 'prissy'. Frequently she would touch Mort on the shoulder when making some exclamation concerning the amenities of the resort, by way of emphasis. Vera was not impressed. Priscilla, for her part, finally mentioned something that Mort and Vera hadn't quite noticed when booking the vacation, i.e., the need to attend an 'investment' seminar located right there at the resort.

The couple was a little surprised, but not too disappointed. It was only for an hour, after all, and they would have the rest of the week free to roam at will in Rio de Janiero. They signed a little acknowledgment, and checked into their room for the evening.

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The next day, during the presentation, the couple listened patiently as an hour turned into two, then four, and then more. Mort, who has the patience of Job, was finally becoming irritated. By this time he could see that it was just a timeshare sales pitch. He kept trying to explain that he had not come there to buy a timeshare, that it was not in his budget, and simply did not suit the couple's lifestyle.

But Giancarlo, the salesman, wasn't having it. "What is there that I can do to sweeten the pot for you, Mort?" "You keep asking that, but there is nothing. We never vacation, especially after this. You've held us hostage here all day long, but we're not about to buy anything else. Vera and I will be leaving now, thank you…".

"Not so fast, Mort."

"What the h…(?)"

"It says here that you have a top secret security clearance."

"Says where, I didn't write that."

"You work for the U.S. Defense Department, right?"

"Well…, yes, what does that have to do with anything.."

"How would it look if you were known to be consorting with an operative of the Brazilian Worker's Party, Giancarlo da Silva ?"

Aaronson Law Group 2180 W. State Road 434, Suite 6136 Longwood, FL 32779

"What the devil are you talking about?"

Giancarlo then took out his wallet, and flashed his credentials as a card carrying communist. Startled, Mort knew he had to focus. Surely this was dirty pool, but the guy was just some low-level hack.

"Get out of our way while we leave and report you to management here at the resort."

And so they left. The rest of the vacation was alright, if a little tainted by the experience.

After they got home to suburban Maryland, one day a strange envelop arrived in the mail. Vera opened it after getting home in the evening. It was full of form legal documents and seemed to be some kind of vacation package confirmation, accompanied by an invoice. She put it aside until her husband came home the next morning.

Mort was aghast. He quickly realized the package for what it was -- some kind of elaborate fraud whereby the couple had supposedly bought into the Copa's timeshare network. He thought back to the little 'acknowledgement', written in Portuguese, that Priscilla had them sign. Worse yet, there was a sizeable invoice from a domestic servicing agent, working out of Arizona.

For over two years, Mort, unwilling to risk his security clearance over bad credit, continued to pay the fabricated timeshare financing installments and quarterly dues.

There are a lot more Mort and Veras than you think. What goes on in Mexico, Brazil, or the Dominican Republic doesn't necessarily stay there. Mort eventually contacted us and we were successful in getting him out of his obligation to the U.S. based timeshare-servicing agent. And so it's possible for the beleaguered owner to get some relief, after all.

Aaronson Law Group 2180 W. State Road 434, Suite 6136 Longwood, FL 32779

CHAPTER 11 THE TRUE COST OF TIMESHARE OWNERSHIP

Do the Math Many timeshare developers, including Wyndham, Diamond Resorts, Marriot and Hilton have gone to a 'points' system in lieu of deeded interests, for reasons discussed in previous blogs. But points can be difficult to translate to actual dollar values. Timeshare developers sell their concept by promising that timeshare is an easy way to purchase a piece of your dream vacation home at a fraction of the price. Don’t be misled. Even a standard timeshare interest is typically very expensive. That is precisely why many hoteliers like Wyndham have gotten into the industry, selling the rooms that they otherwise would have rented, for more money, with guaranteed occupancy. By way of example, suppose that you get 100,000 points per year, and pay $10,000 to receive those points. If you financed your timeshare using a ten year loan, you would have purchased those 100,000 points for about $1,000 per year plus a ton of interest, so far. Now factor in the interest at 18 percent, and the loan cited above would cost some $189 per month. By the time you pay off the loan, you will have paid $21,600 for a $10,000 timeshare purchase. But wait, we're not nearly through. On average, you may well pay some $1000 a year in 'maintenance fees' for the upkeep of the resort and the maintenance costs. So at present value, with no adjustment for inflation, we're already up to $3,100 annually for a one week vacation, or about $442 per night. And those fees keep coming, even after the timeshare is long since paid off. This is where the whole arrangement begins to look a lot like indentured servitude.

Aaronson Law Group 2180 W. State Road 434, Suite 6136 Longwood, FL 32779

So the ownership of a timeshare is not to be mistaken with a legitimate real estate ‘investment.’ But is timeshare ownership even cost effective compared to say, paying standard fare by pre-booking at a resort? A recent survey based on Priceline® quoted rates for one week in Orlando in May of 2014 yielded an average cost of $226 per night, projecting to $1,582 weekly rate for all listed four and five star hotels.

Now consider what it really costs you to own a time share. For the purpose of this analysis, we’ll use the most conservative possible numbers, those quoted by Howard Nusbaum, CEO of the American Resort Developer’s Association (ARDA) – A consortium formed to perpetuate the interests of resort developers, including timeshares). Mr. Nusbaum quotes an average sales price of $19,000, with average annual maintenance fees equating to $660. http://money.usnews.com/money/personal-finance/articles/2012/07/19/should-you-invest-in-a-ti meshare Now let’s assume, again conservatively, that the average financing rate on $19,000 is ten percent, amortized over twenty (20) years. Monthly acquisition payments on this amount are $183.35. Projected annually, this equates to $2,199.02. Add in the $660 per year that you’re paying in maintenance in the meantime, an amount that is likely to increase dramatically with time, (and never cease), and you have a twenty year acquisition cost of 20 x $(2196.02 + 660)=$57,117.40. If the average age upon acquisition of the timeshare is about 45 years old, and the average life expectancy of the buyer is 80 years, we must now add 15 additional annual payments of $660, projecting to a total additional cost of $9,900, even without considering any inflation factor for the maintenance fees. All told, using these parameters, the price of lodging alone during your annual weekly vacation projected actuarially for the rest of your life is $67,107.40.

On the other hand, you could have booked annually at a four or five star resort in the Orlando area at $226 per night, again with no adjustment for inflation, forty two times over – beyond

Aaronson Law Group 2180 W. State Road 434, Suite 6136 Longwood, FL 32779

your projected lifespan – with no obligation. On top of this, you would have complete flexibility to book anytime and anywhere you wish – Orlando was just used as an example in both cases to make the comparison more objective.

Case Study - Brad and Liz

Brad was an ad man working on Madison Avenue. He and Liz, a literary agent, shared an upscale East Side apartment. Liz had just taken up there, and was still oogle-eyed over her new man. Autumn afternoons in Central Park, breakfast at Tiffany's, an evening at the Met. The couple lived out their new lives together, making their way through the maze of Manhattan. It was still pretty giddy stuff for Liz, 25, who had come from rural Indiana.

One of the 'perks' Brad received from his advertising account with MGV Resorts was a deeded timeshare interest in a posh Malibu resort, where he and Liz would be vacationing come winter. It was technically company owned, but Brad generally received first dibs on it since he was the account point man.

One day in January, though, Brad's firm received an odd piece of correspondence from a company called Diamond Resorts International. Although the details were sketchy, it generally advised Brad that they had 'acquired' some kind of interest in his timeshare, that he was now on the 'points' system, and that he would have to buy Diamond 'points' if they were to vacation in Malibu.

This all seemed a little untoward. For one thing, Brad didn't recall having put the timeshare up for sale. It also struck Brad as a little strange that he had to pay them money for having bought some kind of interest in his timeshare. Didn't it usually work the other way around? He was sure that he could get this all straightened out though.

So he called Diamond headquarters in Las Vegas. 'Stanley' of DRI customer service assured

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Brad that nothing irregular had occurred, and in point of fact, as a welcoming gesture they would put him up free of charge in Sedona for four days and three nights. Liz was giddy. She had always wanted to see Sedona. Plus, it was the middle of January, and things were a little raw in Manhattan.

And so at the end of the month, off to Sedona they flew. This was going to be a welcome departure from the same old vacation. Not that Malibu was chopped liver, mind you. Far from it. But Stanley had assured them that, as Diamond members, they would have far more flexibility, with access to resorts all over the world. At Sedona the couple checked into the opulent Sonoran Resort. The rooms were posh, the views were spectacular, and a complimentary dinner that evening was terrific.

"I could almost get used to this," Liz thought as they were settling into their room. No sooner had she thought this, than Brad said exactly that, verbatim. Liz took this as further proof that Brad really was her soul mate.

The next morning, while checking through the concierge, the couple was 'reminded' that they were to attend an investment seminar sponsored by 'the developer'. Brad was becoming a little concerned about his memory loss. He was only 34.

And so they dutifully took their seats in one of the resort conference rooms for the one hour presentation. Brad and Liz were wooed for an hour or so by Audrey, who presided over the seminar. She put on quite a dog and pony show, with glossy literature, videos, and power point a power play, really. One opulent resort destination after another, some in Hawaii, Nice, Bali, even Tahiti.

"And how are you liking your current accommodations? Not too shabby, huh? Now take this and ramp it up an order of magnitude. Just feast your eyes…."

Aaronson Law Group 2180 W. State Road 434, Suite 6136 Longwood, FL 32779

These were to be an extension, each one more exotic than the previous, of their current vacation. So if they thought this was good, just imagine… And they did. Perpetual bliss, almost, within their reach. And so it was that soon Audrey came to own them, lock, stock, and barrel.

Before they knew it they were signing off on the dotted line. Lines, actually. Line after line after line. But they were on vacation, after all. They had been in the room for a while now, and were anxious to get on with it. This was no time to stress over legal technicalities. If it turned out to be problem, it seemed to Liz that it was only a local one. Not the kind of thing that was likely to follow them back to New York.

Toward the end of their stay, they took in a gorgeous sunset over the rustic desert terrain. Each individual ray seemed to suffuse the sky in a thousand different colors. "You know we were meant for each other" Brad whispered in her ear. "If you tell me anything right now I'll believe it."

Eventually, though, it was time to return. As winter wore on, one evening after dinner at Gregorio's, Liz noticed that Brad's trousers were beginning to ride up his waistline. She didn't say anything though. Everyone puts on a little weight in wintertime.

One night after work, while she was shuffling through the snail mail, Liz found a mortgage statement of some kind. She opened it, and realized that it was from their Diamond "Vacation Club". A three hundred and ninety five dollar contribution was to be required. Monthly. She couldn't help but wonder how it could be so much. This was like new car payment. The next month it got even better. The quarterly dues statement arrived. Another $589 hit. Liz started to do the math. Let's see, (12 x $395) + (4x $589) comes to about six thousand dollars a year. She began to realize that they had made a terrible mistake.

She tried to call customer service to get some kind of accounting for the 'maintenance fees', at

Aaronson Law Group 2180 W. State Road 434, Suite 6136 Longwood, FL 32779

least "I need to find out why these dues are so high". "You'll need to send a written request." "Fine, please tell me where I can email or fax it to". "We can only take it via U.S. mail to our PO box in Las Vegas". "Why is that? Isn't this a little inefficient in this day and age." "I don't set the policies, M'am." "I get the feeling that you really are going out of your way to make this as difficult as possible. Why a PO. box…(?). … is it so that there's as little accountability as possible…(?)

Finally, Liz got the address, and sent her written request for a dues accounting via snail mail. How could Brad have let this happen(?), she wondered. He was older, worked in business, and should have known better. But every time she tried to take it up with him, he seemed to just blow it off, as though he was in denial about it. In fact, that's what he seemed to do in general whenever confronted with some festering unpleasantry. And this made Liz that much more inclined to carp on him about these things.

And though she was quick to complain about the expenses, this didn't seem to keep her from playing lotto each day of the week, several times daily.

Several weeks went by this way, still no accounting from Diamond. Liz called customer service again demanding a response.

"Sorry, but we don't have any record of your request. You'll have to send another."

"Why am I not surprised about that…. you can record phone calls, you can email me when you want to sell me something, but you turn the clock back a hundred years when it comes to being accountable, and then conveniently lose the accounting request. …", and so on, Liz continued her tirade, while Brad sat cringing on the sofa. After the call was over, he knew there would be hell to pay.

Aaronson Law Group 2180 W. State Road 434, Suite 6136 Longwood, FL 32779

Eventually, she slammed the phone. "How can you just sit there like nothing's wrong….just munching away on junk food. When was the last time you went to the gym. Look at you, you're taking up half the sofa…". Now she was really evolving into something Brad had never dreamed of.

And so the couple was consigned to reluctantly pay their monthly financing fees, and their quarterly dues, for fear of ruining their credit otherwise. It was now becoming a general financial struggle. Breakfast at Tiffany's had long since given way to Dunkin Donuts. (Brad especially liked the chocolate éclairs). If there was any consolation, it was the prospect of taking the next vacation at some world class resort.

Almost a year had passed, and it was time to make the plans. But airfare to Bali or Tahiti would run way to much money, especially now. So Liz settled on Aruba. Brad was not about to question this. By now it was clear that his apartment was really a hen house, and he was not about to ruffle the feathers

But when Liz called to book their stay, the conversation went something like this: "We want to book a week in February at the Royal Palace in Aruba." "Well, unfortunately, you don't have enough points for this…" Brad was listening from the sofa, again. He spilled his bag of Cheetos®.

"What do you mean we lack points, you're already stripping us down to our birthday suits, and now have the temerity, the very gall, to tell us that we can't stay … with what we're paying, you should be putting us up in Buckingham Palace… get me your supervisor immediately…there's obviously been some kind of mistake…"

But alas, there had not been. Liz was directed by the supervisor to read page 42 of their contract, containing some disclaimers, waivers, and other weasel words limiting access to resort facilities

Aaronson Law Group 2180 W. State Road 434, Suite 6136 Longwood, FL 32779

'in the discretion' of the developer. And so it was that the extent to which they had been fleeced became a stark reality.

They did manage to book a stay in February at the Saltwater in Atlantic City. And although it lacked the opulence of the Sonoran Resort, it did feature an all-you-can eat buffet in the floor level cafeteria. Brad spent a good deal of time there while Liz was off in the casinos.

One evening they were out at a real restaurant. Liz ordered Oysters Rockefeller. Brad opted for pizza. But when it was time to pay, his credit card was declined. "Run it again, please". When the waiter left, little capillaries began to stand out on Liz' forehead. This was never a good sign. "You've maxed out our card, Brad? Is that what you're going to tell me next? Maxed out? That card has a ten thousand dollar limit. We just got it six months ago. You and your profligate spending… and eating for that matter, you hedonist, you've eaten your way to raggedy edge of hard times, the brink of insolvency, and you've drug me down with you…. " And so, if there's a moral to the story, it's this: Timeshares can strain relationships.

Aaronson Law Group 2180 W. State Road 434, Suite 6136 Longwood, FL 32779

CHAPTER 12 TIMESHARE TRAPS

1. False Incentivesâ&#x20AC;&#x2039; â&#x20AC;&#x201C; The developer 'baits' the unwitting prospect through enticements including a discounted cruise, resort stay, airfare, or theme park tickets. Invariably though, the patron must sit through a vaguely described meeting, be it characterized as a 'seminar', 'symposium', or other gathering, however characterized, the requirement of which is not necessarily clearly disclosed to begin with.

Aaronson Law Group 2180 W. State Road 434, Suite 6136 Longwood, FL 32779

The baiting process itself may originate in many ways, such as a cold call, an online ad, or even in person through someone accosting the hapless vacationer. In any case, the prospect accepts the faux benefit. Faux because on the balance, the extent to which the enticement actually benefits the patron is generally far outweighed by the oppressiveness of the sales pitch obligation, even in cases in which the patron resists the enormous pressure brought to bear upon her during the high pressure presentation, for reasons set forth below. Regardless, from a purely psychological standpoint, and perhaps only subconsciously, the patron now 'owes' something to the developer, who has apparently been very generous in conferring the baiting benefit. 2. The Pitch – The timeshare developer has a crack P.R. man smoothly extol the benefits of 'vacation ownership'. This is the ace of the pitching rotation. He will generally avoiding using the word 'timeshare', which has developed a decidedly pejorative connotation, for obvious reasons. He pitches to the entire seminar room audience, usually after the vacation has already started.

The sales presentation room is full of prospects, some of whom may even be 'plants', like accomplices in the audience of a magic show. They say ooohh and ahh, they almost swoon over each new photo, each new scene, and every little embellishment coming from the mouth of the pitchman.

This pitchman employs all the latest technology, including professionally generated marketing videos, power point, glossy literature, etc., all portraying exotic resort settings around the world. He touts the accessibility of these destinations, each one more luxurious than the previous. This Pitch is a professionally delivered, highly refined, and well-practiced delivery, a tour-de-force of marketing acumen.

3. The Break-Out – The individual patrons disperse into individual groups in smaller meeting rooms, usually one room per couple. A specific salesperson is assigned to each couple, to complete the sales pitch, and consummate the transaction. This may only be a set-up man, similar to the middle man in a baseball pitching order, who will defer to the 'closer' if he or she

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cannot complete the deal. If necessary, the closer is brought in to ramp up the pressure.

4. The Set Up – The closer is able to take on a number of personality traits, depending on the patron(s). Many closers have a theatrical background, and many are just sociopathic liars, or both, but all are adeptly trained and well practiced in reading the patron, identifying any vulnerabilities, and exploiting them. The closer seems trustworthy and genuinely excited about the product, and conveys this to the patron. The closer will ask a number of seemingly off-handed questions while engaged in idle chit-chat. These are not necessarily what they seem. In a given instance, a patron may reply to a question or remark about bumper stickers, revealing that he has an NRA decal. Voila!: "What a coincidence, …. I've been a member for years ….I met Charlton Heston at our annual convention back in '98, what a man….I just bought an AKA 47, ….".

The closer will stop at nothing to close the deal, including misrepresentations, but also frequent breaks to consult with his 'manager' about sweetening the pot, the offering of free food, and perhaps even alcohol. We are still in the diplomacy phase, though. Eventually, where this fails, overwhelming pressure is then brought to bear, for hours if necessary, to the point of psychological breakdown.

At this juncture, the sales pitch may even become distinctly confrontational, by design. In fact, a second closer may be brought in, whose role is exclusively that of the proverbial 'bad cop'. Intimidation tactics include 'shaming' the patron for not reciprocating the hospitality accorded to her (remember the bait), insulting and condescending rhetoric, and even physical entrapment of the prospect (transportation back to the resort is ‘unavailable’ until some later, unspecified time).

5. The Closure – The beleaguered patron is eventually worn down to the point of exhaustion, literally overwhelmed emotionally, psychologically, and perhaps physically. By this time she is willing to pay almost any amount of money simply to get out of the room. It's been hours now, but it seems like days. The patron is supposed to be on vacation, and a day of it has already been

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wasted. The patron is all too willing to sign off on the dotted line - lines, actually, dozens of them. The sales contract turns out to be fifty page missive full of waivers and disclaimers that purport to absolve the developer for every conceivable lie told during the sales pitch. No one in her right mind would ever execute it. But the poor patron is no longer in her right mind. She just wants out, and if it means rushing through the signing process, so be it. Often important provisions in the documentation are left blank, and conveniently filled in after the fact. Generally, the patron is not provided with copies of the contract and addenda, at least not then and there. Rather, they are mailed to the patron several weeks later, long after her statutory right of rescission has expired.

Timeshares Personified - Who's Really Pitching?

It's possible to personify the characteristics of many things that aren't necessarily human. You know this, of course. Many cartoon characters are personified animals. Mickey, for example, is an anthropomorphic mouse. Some interior designers even use a kind of personification process to decorate distinctive rooms or areas of a home. The room is supposed to take on a character of its own, compatible with the type of people who are likely to spend time there. Thus, you wouldn't decorate a powder room for some dude named Brutus. No, we already met Brutus in a previous chapter. He belongs in a hunting lodge, or perhaps the trophy room. Brutus the brute. Think of Popeye's nemesis, perpetually imperiling Olive Oil. In fact, if the trophy room had a name, it would be Brutus. The room would be dark and dank, like Brutus' hair and demeanor. The furniture would be of tattered leather, kind of like Brutus' weathered scalp. The floors would be covered with be furry bear rugs, similar to the brute's hairy arms. Now, what if a timeshare were a person (?), relative to a say, a standard condominium, or a single family home. What would he or she look like?

Aaronson Law Group 2180 W. State Road 434, Suite 6136 Longwood, FL 32779

Let's start with the single standard condo. It's a little sliver of a high rise skyscraper, a little cross section. Horizontal, mainly, and usually rectangular or even square. One of many, stock dwellings, aggregated. Even though they may differ dramatically from one building to the next in quality and décor, they still fit in naturally with others of their kind. At the risk of mixing metaphors, they're like birds of a feather. Sociable, conforming.

You can't help but think of Wally Cleaver. He looks, thinks, and feels like social conformity personified. Wally is the "all-American" boy. He's popular with parents and peers like. Heck, even his teachers like him. He letters in three sports. He doesn't need much of an excuse to don that letter jacket, either, even when it's not that cold. Wally is upwardly mobile. He works after school to buy a car.

He's been around the block a time or two, so he's able to put Ward's fatherly advice into kidspeak for Beaver. Thus, he's a go-between Beaver on the ground floor, and Ward and June in the penthouse.

And so we have our foundation, the standard condominium, Wally Cleaver. Now take that basic unit, Wally, and twist him a bit. Make him kind of snarky, a little duplicitous. He looks a lot like the standard unit. You can't really put your finger on it, but now there's just something about him you don't quite trust. And there you have it, the timeshare personified, Eddie Haskell. Eddie is the archetypical sycophant. He'll stop at nothing to curry favor with the adults. He's well groomed, and exceedingly polite, fawning even. But scrape just beneath that obsequious façade. You discover a character that's as sneaky as he is snarky. Bullying Beaver, putting sugar in Lumpy's gas tank - these are just a couple of Eddie's exploits.

Likewise, the timeshare has all the appearance of institutional propriety. It looks, smells, and feels like a standard resort. And not just the bricks and mortar. There's also the glossy literature, professional management, customer service, the works. Heck, the company may even be publicly

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traded, as on flippin' Wall Street. And then there's the professional sales staff. Man are they good. So earnest, so sincere. They look you right in the eye. And so its patrons are reassured, but lured, subtly. They would swear up and down that it's Wally Cleaver himself, right there in the sales room, personally pitching to them, pitching for them, really. Surely he'll go straight to the dugout, right after the pitch, grab a handle, and come right out to the plate. He'll be just as good a hitter, if not better, than he was a pitcher. And he'll be going to bat for them, his patrons. Not some opposing team. And so now Wally's done pitching. And he was good. Really good. The ace of the rotation. And he's gone to the dugout. But wait a minute…., what's this (?)… who is this, actually, coming out of the dugout? And why is he coming out of the other dugout. He saunters slowly over to the plate. He's actually swaggering now. No, this is not Wally at all. You never thought, never dreamed, but there he is, in the flesh, right there taking his stance in the batter's box, its none other than Eddie Haskell!

Case Study Grace and Barnie

Grace Castellano was retired, a widow living in the Phoenix area. She was a petite little woman, full of compassion for others. Her voice was soft and sweet. She and her husband had raised a family in Pittsburgh, where she taught second grade for 35 years. Her students affectionately called her 'Mrs. C.' When she wasn't raising kids or teaching, she had played the organ at St. Albans church. It amazed all who knew "Gracie" that such a quiet little woman could make so much noise on the organ, as she thundered out hymn after hymn, the sounds resounded throughout the cavernous cathedral.

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She had recently lost her Herb to a heart attack. Herb had worked at Bethlehem Steel, all the way up from the mail room to senior VP of Sales. He was her rock, a pillar of strength. In almost forty years there at the company he hadn't taken over a dozen sick days.

For months after Herb's passing, Grace felt a kind of hollowness in her soul. Each of her three children would call, generally on different nights of any given week, as though they had worked out a system of some kind. But after several months went by, daughter Natalie was becoming increasingly concerned. Mom didn't really seem to be getting over her grief. On the phone, her already soft little voice sounded almost lifeless. Natalie and her husband Rick didn't have kids of their own. They had talked about adopting. But for now, they agreed that Natalie should fly to Phoenix and stay with mom for a while.

Gracie was happy to have Natalie with her, of course. Natalie learned that mom's church there, Sacred Heart, sponsored a grief counseling program for its parishioners. She took her mom the first few times, twice a week, for about a month. Her therapist recommended that Gracie a get a dog. They had once had a golden retriever, much beloved, when little 'Nat' was still in grade school.

Natalie was concerned about buying from a 'puppy mill' though. So she went online, and found a Craigslist ad, touting four new puppies from a private litter, just arrived. "If we hurry, we can get the pick of the litter."

And they did. The four little fuzzies were all impossibly cute, each one more so than the next. Their little coats were several shades of golden-red. The lightest and 'goldest' colored one seemed to take to Gracie straight away, licking her profusely while the others nursed. She named him Barnie. Home he went with Gracie and Nat.

At first little Barnie would howl long into the night, crying out for his canine mommy. Natalie wasn't sure that this was good for mom after all. Gracie would tear up herself, and cuddle the

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little pup to sleep each night. But after several days little Barnie got over his homesickness, settled in, and was even getting potty trained. Another week and he was fully bonded with his human mommy. Natalie could see that her mom was recovering. She was getting out and about now, walking Barnie. Her doggie-walks forced her back into contact with neighbors, mostly retirees walking their own dogs. With each passing day, her spirits were lifting like morning glories. With the mission accomplished, it was time for Natalie to go home.

Now about two years had elapsed since Herb's death. Barnie was a strapping adolescent - big, fluffy and full of energy. Gracie would still take him on walks, of course, but by this time he weighed over a hundred pounds, and it was really Gracie that was getting walked. So often she would simply let him out into the fenced back yard. It was summer time in the Valley of the Sun, and hot - too hot - really, for Gracie to go out. Plus the 'yard' was really more like a bed of rocks.

Gracie thought that maybe she could take a vacation of some kind. But how, with Barnie? Now Gracie still read the paper each morning, getting her news the old fashioned way. She noticed a little ad one day, plugging a five day cruise-and-stay to the Catalina Island Resort. Normally it would be impossible with Barnie, and she wasn't about to leave him at some pet 'hotel', but this was a dog-friendly cruise. Best of all, the whole thing, including airfare to Long Beach, CA, was only $399. Impossible! But sure enough, the nice customer service rep assured Grace that this was an all-expense-paid vacation. Grace called Natalie, ecstatic. She loved to travel, but hadn't done anything like this since before Herb passed.

"I don't know about this Mom, did you read the fine print?" "What fine print, Honey? I just read it in a little ad in the newspaper, called up, and they confirmed everything. I don't think there was any fine print."

And so off she flew, with Barnie in the cargo bin. There was a little separation anxiety, maybe,

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as Barnie had whined away from inside his port-o-cage at the baggage check, but the flight was only an hour, and they were soon reunited a LAX. Gracie had always been so neat and tidy, but she would tolerate things from Barnie like no one else, like a thousand tongue-lickings lashings, almost - upon being reunited with Gracie at the baggage claim.

After a taxi ride to Long Beach, they were duly processed there at an office right on the pier. They then crossed over the gang plank with a porter, and boarded the cruise ship Bravado. Barnie was leashed and on his best behavior. The Bravado was specially equipped with a open-air grassy court yard to accommodate pooping pets. There was even a full time staff of poop-picker-uppers to keep the place relatively clean. Gracie wondered to herself how much they had to pay these people to do such a job.

Finally, they arrived at their state-room, Gracie tipped the porter, and settled in. The cruise itself was fairly enjoyable. Barnie was allowed everywhere. He was there by Gracie's side during bingo, live entertainment, and copious free food. "Gormet" dog food was served at the foot of the table. Gracie even met a nice older couple at dinner the first night, Ben and Julie. Their little schnauzer, Pepper, was fed scraps off the table, a violation of protocol. But who was going to bust them?

They told Gracie about how they had somehow 'bought into' the Catalina Island Resort, about how much they loved it, what a great 'investment' it was, and so on. This was interesting. She wondered how one 'bought into' a hotel.

So at the end of the second day at sea, they arrived at the pier of the Catalina Island Resort - the "Cat"- as Ben had called it. "The Cat's cool", he kept saying. Gracie and Barnie went through the porter-to-room ritual again, but the front desk sent Gracie to the concierge, who 'reminded' her that she had to sit though a brief 'investment' presentation. Hmm…This she did not remember at all.

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And so the next morning they ate breakfast in the dog-friendly cafĂŠ. Barnie's victuals included a special steak cutlet diced and covered with gravy. He seemed to savor every morsel.

Afterwards, Gracie dutifully took her place in one many seminar rooms, and leashed Barnie to her chair in the front row. Not all of the dogs were as sanguine as Barnie. For some reason, Ben and Julie were there. Pepper their schnauzer yapped at the heels of another patron, setting off a general din of barking commotion. Each dog was given a complimentary bone, though, as pacifiers. This seemed to work fairly well, and by the time the presentation was underway, things had subsided.

"Oscar" was the emcee. He voice resonated like a professional orator, and his rhetoric was smooth as silk. He flashed though frame after frame of photos depicting resort amenities, including a dog friendly water park, replete with showers, pools, flowing canals, and even a water fall. "The water is constantly flowing and filtrated so that it stays clean". The Catalina Resort Group had other facilities "all over the world." Oscar then commenced to show a video of about them. It was all very professional, very impressive.

But there was something about it all that just seemed a little untoward to Gracie. She couldn't really put her finger on it, but she was very intuitive and her instincts told her that something was amiss. Maybe it was Oscar himself. As smooth as he was, he seemed to be blinking a lot. In 35 years of teaching second graders, Gracie had seen her share of blinking seven year olds fibbing to cover up for some naughty deed on the playground.

So at the end of the presentation, Gracie got up, and with Barnie at her side was on her way out. Suddenly, Ben accosted her, actually physically blocking her from the door. "How about it Gracie, is this place some kind of cool, or what?"

Hmmâ&#x20AC;Śwhy was Ben even here (?), Gracie wondered. Hadn't he already bought into this place? Now someone named Rudy had come around, trying to coral her into one of the side rooms.

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Gracie resisted. "Please, I just want to go back to my room for now…."

But Rudy somehow got her in there, and commenced a high pressure sales pitch so emphatic that it took on a kind of messianic tenor: ""As God is my witness, this is the most dynamic investment concept to come along in decades…think about your dreams....think about the uniqueness of this place, think about all those years of hard work you put in…working, working your life away, yearning for your own little piece of paradise, a place to relax, a place to unwind, a place to get away from it all, and most of all, a place that you actually can call your own, that no one can ever take away, your own little slice of heaven...and best of all, an investment in the future, that you can enjoy forever with your best friend, indeed man's best friend, your beloved Barnie...Sounds too good to be true I know, but soon it will be if you don't jump on it, .... as God is my witness, there are people waiting in the wings for this opportunity, and we're selling this real estate so fast that it'll may well be gone tomorrow.. and all because it's the hottest concept to come along in many years -- vacation ownership! You don't just rent it and just forget about it, you don't just dream about it..., you own it, ...you have title to it..are invested in it...you own it, it's there for you any time you want..." Now this was good. Really good. So good that Gracie's defenses were beginning to weaken. But alas, she couldn't help but notice that Rudy was blinking just a profusely as Oscar had. And so she tried to get up and leave again, but again Rudy blocked the door. As she tried to push past him, he grabbed her forcibly by the arm, and she gasped a little, but just then Barnie leapt forward and locked onto Rudy's leg with a bight so fierce that Rudy shrieked in pain. This was just the break that poor Gracie needed, and she fled with Barnie as quickly as her seventy year old legs would let her.

When she got back to the room she noticed that there was no air conditioning. She called the front desk, but got no response. Finally, when it was no longer bearable, she went to the water park with Barnie. They splashed around together under the falls, floated down one of the canals, and Gracie started to relax a little, trying to get over the trauma of the entrapment earlier.

Aaronson Law Group 2180 W. State Road 434, Suite 6136 Longwood, FL 32779

That evening, on the way back to the room, she stopped by the front desk to ask about the a.c. But the receptionist asked her to wait while she called on a 'supervisor'. Hmm…a supervisor? This was a new wrinkle. After a while, a somber looking man, Mr. Truncheon, appeared.

"Unfortunately, Ms. Castellano, you've violated the terms of your contract with us, and we can no longer accommodate you here."

Poor Gracie could not believe her ears. "Wh, what terms? What on earth have I done wrong?"

"Read your booking reservation. You must exercise good faith in attending a sales seminar. You've failed to do this, and now your stay with us is over. It's just that simple. You're lucky we don't prosecute you for what your dog did to our salesman." "Good faith…my goodness I sat there for hours, how can you say this…" Gracie was crying now. "The cruise ship doesn't even leave until day after tomorrow, where will I stay until then?

"You won't be going anywhere on that ship. The porter is here with your luggage. Goodbye now." "What, you've stranded me here on the Island with my dog? How will I ever get home? "That's your problem."

And so Gracie was 'expelled' from the "Cat". Once outside under the portico, Gracie tearfully called around, but there were no hotel vacancies on the island that night. Barnie rested his head on her lap as she sat there sobbing on a little bench. Eventually she hailed a cab to the little commuter airport, where she tried to sleep in a chair that night, waiting for the flight that she booked for the next morning.

Aaronson Law Group 2180 W. State Road 434, Suite 6136 Longwood, FL 32779

And so eventually Gracie got home with her Barnie. But in all her seventy years she had not suffered this kind of indignity. Still, in reflecting on it all, at least she didn't let them beat her. And so she stays upbeat about it, and now some months later can even laugh a little. And if you ask her about the whole affair, she'll giggle softly, and tell you that there's even a moral to the story: "Never take your dog to the Cat".

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CHAPTER 13 HOW THEY PULL IT OFF

1. Practical Implementation

In this chapter we tie together many of the concepts already discussed into a coherent, larger picture in explaining how your timeshare developer continues to get away with playing dirty pool.

Remember that the timeshare is founded on the legal structure of a condominium. A condo allocates outright title to the owner of any given unit with respect to the confines within its walls, and 'undivided' ownership in each as to the common elements of the facility, including all the amenities, such as the pool(s), etc. Each unit owner shares the cost of maintaining these common elements.

The timeshare arrangement takes this structure a step further in dividing ownership of any given unit into weekly intervals, in the typical case. Thus the cost of maintaining these common elements should be divided fifty-two times over.

If there has ever been any doubt in your mind as to whether your timeshare is a raw deal, just do some basic arithmetic: Perhaps you're paying $1,000 per year toward annual dues for

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'maintenance' that gets you a one week stay annually. There are at least fifty two other 'members' paying a similar amount for the same unit. If your timeshare is actually characterized as a 'vacation ownership' plan, or some other denomination, the principal is the same - at least 52 other 'owners' are likely paying for each unit available - each is generally available for one week per owner. So now for the math: 52 weeks times $1,000 is $52,000 annually. This figure is astronomical. Would the outright owner of any single condo ever expect to pay this kind of money annually for maintenance? Of course not. Not even in the penthouse of the Manhattan Trump Tower.

These maintenance dues are actually in the nature of trust funds earmarked for third parties. Your developer owes you a fiduciary duty to properly manage and account for these funds. And as you can see from the example above, the chances are good that this is not happening.

The concept of a "fiduciary" simply means that the one responsible must handle the fiduciary asset(s) in the best interests of the beneficiary or owner, as the case may be. In the case of a timeshare or vacation plan, that owner is you. Regrettably, the chances are that your developer is not handling your annual dues in the fashion of a fiduciary. How do we know this, other than having done the math? At the most fundamental level, simply ask yourself who is actually managing your resort(s) condominium.

In the case of any condominium, each owner is entitled to vote in a board of directors to manage the owner's association. The directors in turn shop around and hire a management company to conduct routine maintenance and handle the collection of funds for annual dues.

In the case of a timeshare or 'vacation club', however, this legal abstract breaks down - not for legal reasons. In fact, the directors of the owner's association still have the same fiduciary obligation to manage the resort(s) in the best interest of the owners. But as a practical matter,

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only the developer has the information necessary to steer the policy of the association. Specifically, information pertaining to the identity and contact information of individual timeshare or vacation club owners, which information is held closely guarded to the vest of the unscrupulous developer.

In this fashion, the developer, which may own a handful of units in any given resort, is able to circulate proxies to the owners which nominate certain board members, subject to 'opposition'. But individual unit owners, without access to ownership contact information, are not able to galvanize meaningful opposition to the developer's nominees. Can you guess who these nominees are? They are stooges of the developer - insiders - bought and paid for. And once elected, do you think that they commence to shop around for the best proposal to manage the facilities? Think again. And can you guess whom they might hire to manage the condominium? The developer, of course. Has it occurred to you yet that this might be a conflict of interest? Board members controlled by an entity that hires itself to manage your resort condominium. And yet this arrangement is perpetuated in every single resort in every facility run by your timeshare or vacation ownership developer, for reasons outlined. This, then, is how they pull it off. If this troubles you, it should. On the other hand, this patent conflict of interest is single most compelling point of vulnerability that your developer has when confronted legally. It may well give you just the leverage needed to get out from under this oppressive arrangement.

2. Mentality and Corporate Culture

It's one thing to know how to implement such an elaborate scheme from a practical standpoint. It's something else entirely to pull it off. It takes a certain persona, a certain mentality characterized by a willingness to stop at nothing to succeed.

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In other chapters, we've discussed the pathological tendencies exhibited by sales representatives in the timeshare 'division' of the hospitality industry. By necessity, it involves a willingness to knowingly lie about the relative merits of a product that is inherently flawed. After all, without some kind of intervention, many timeshare interests constitute an oppressive, and indeed a perpetualâ&#x20AC;&#x2039; obligation, the benefits of which pale by comparison to the costs involved. Moreover, even after the timeshare is 'paid for', annual dues for maintenance often run well over $1,500 annually, and continue to escalate without disclosure or justification. At these rates, one could book equal or better accommodations at similar destinations on an ad hoc, rental basis, with much greater flexibility.

A certain kind of personality is required in order to effectively purvey such a product, and we've had occasion to document the extent to a which sociopathic tendencies are reflected in the mentality and culture of timeshare sales. But the fish doesn't rot from the tail up. Personalities spearheading some of the largest developers in the timeshare industry are interesting and colorful studies in alpha-type dominance, replicated in a hierarchical fashion, from the head of the boardroom right down through the rank and file sales reps.

It is important to understand this when engaging in a legal dispute with any timeshare developer. Why? Because a sociopath, by definition, does not empathize with your plight. You cannot go hat in hand to the developer complaining about how essentially unfair it all is. They simply will not respond to you, at least not in any kind of meaningful fashion. Phone calls to numbers given if you have complaints, if they exist at all, are generally not answered. Verifiable, timely communications through email or fax are almost impossible as well. This is by design.

In this regard, an accounting for annual dues will not be forthcoming, at least not without the subpoena power of a court of law. This is critically important. This is where the developer is most vulnerable, and this is where your leverage is from a legal standpoint. Accordingly, unless you hire an â&#x20AC;&#x2039;attorneyâ&#x20AC;&#x2039; who is willing to sue the developer, thus invoking the subpoena power of a

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court of law, you may well be wasting your time.

Case Study - Butch and Axe

Butch Mealy is a timeshare salesman in Vegas. He goes into a bar there after work and starts to order a drink. "What are you drinkin' tonight"(?), asks the bartender. "Something that goes well with the feeling of misleading an Alzheimer's patient." "Captain Morgan on the Rocks it'll be" said Bud the bartender. Actually, Bud already knew Butch's drink of choice. It was a little rhetorical thing that they went through every evening. Butch liked the sinister grin of the Captain gracing the label of the bottle. Somehow it made him feel like less of a heel, if only by comparison. Not that Butch had much of a conscience. In a former life, he had been lawyer - defending criminals, mainly. But as time went by, he ran afoul of a few ethical guidelines. Formal grievances began to add up, and his state Bar association became concerned. The last straw was when he up and disappeared one day without notice. Just dropped off the face of the very earth. The feds caught him not long after, at the Canadian border, with half a million in client trust funds. So Butch didn't escape. And this didn't escape the attention of the Nevada Bar. And then Butch was behind bars. His rehabilitation counselor was a cell mate in Leavenworth, Jack "the Axe" Savage. The Axe was doing 20 years on racketeering charges. But his appeals team sprung him after they caught his prosecutor suborning perjury. Not that the Axe wasn't guilty as sin. But that's another story.

So by about the time Butch had served his ten, they put the Axe on the street, right there next to him. And now there was this little problem of getting employment, for both of them. Even in Vegas, there was an ample labor pool of non-felons, thus Butch and Axe languished for a while

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in a halfway house. But they both had a natural skill set of exceptional value to prospective employers in the hospitality industry, and in particular its 'timeshare' sector, where sociopaths are in high demand.

So that was then, and this is now. After a while, Axe arrived at the bar, looking a little frazzled. He took his usual seat next to Butch, and ordered a boilermaker. "You look a little down in the mouth, Axe. What's up?" "Ah it's this f'g job. This old hag somehow got my cell phone and keeps trying to call me...". Axe went on this way for awhile, complaining about some elderly patron who somehow felt taken advantage of. "Whoa...that kinda' sucks, huh. Why don't you just handle it like you did back in the old days?" "What, and waste her?" "No, you idiot..." Just then Axe's phone rang. "*&%$#, it's her again!" "Answer it Axe, you can't just keep avoiding it. Face your problems....let her have it. Give her a good tongue lashing...brow beat her haggard old ass...she'll think twice before calling you again....isn't that what you preached to me in Leavenworth...now look at me, I'm a whole new man....!" This is Butch's version of a Joel O'steen sermon. But in the meantime Axe has missed the call.

Bud the bartender just shakes his head. He has a kind of fly-on-the-wall perspective of these conversations. Not that most bartenders are saints. But even from Bud's jaded perspective, these two are really bottom feeders. He decides to play a little trick on our felonious friends: Stepping back into the kitchen, he calls Butch, disguising his voice: "You sold me a timeshare a little while back. I can't use my points, and I want to sell it back to the resale department you told me about... remember me, Ed Jones?"

"Look, Jones. I don't know how the bloody hell you got this number, but let me tell you what you can do with those points you bought. You can fold the paper they're written on several times

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over, and turn it into a six-point suppository. Don't ever call this %&*$ number again!" Butch was about to slam down the phone, but suddenly Bud responded: "Actually, Mr. Mealy, this isn't Ed Jones at all. It's Stan Kluber. And you've just been busted on Under-Cover Boss." "M, m, m, Mister Kluber, sir, I, I, I'm so s, s, sor, sorry...I've had a little bit too much to drink, I would n, nev, never ...." "What are you talking about Mealy, ... I'm not really busting you, you're getting promoted. Show up in my office first thing in the morning, we'll talk details." And so it was that Bud managed to outwit the sly shyster. Butch did show in Kluber's penthouse office the next morning. The conversation went something like this: "Mealy, never heard of you, how'd you get past my secretary anyhow? "She wasn't there. Any way, you called me last night, something about a promotion...?" "Mealy, you're as delusional as you are officious, just to walk in here like this with some made-up bull%$#*. Whatever job you had, you're fired! Clean out your desk while Dom here escorts you out."

Mealy stood there aghast for a second or two, but anger overtook him. It occurred to him right then that he had nothing to lose: "Kluber, you're as phony as you are officious. You have the gall, the unmitigated temerity to fire me, your top salesman, accusing me of making things up. Have you seen yourself lately on T.V.(?), coming off like the ultimate nice-guy, when everyone around here knows you're the world's biggest ass..."

Kluber sat there stunned for a moment. But then, bouncing back quickly, he started to click away at his desktop..."Hmm...our best salesman...., let's see...". Another click or two, checking the numbers.... "You know Mealy, I kinda' like your style after all....you know it takes a spade to call one....and you're my kind of spade. Dom, promote this man. Congratulation Butch, you're our new director of sales!"

And so it was that Butch the felon was fired, promoted, fired, and promoted again all within

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about a twelve hour timeframe. Now even Dom, Kluber's right hand, is looking over his shoulder. Imagine Bud's surprise when he learned how his little ruse had backfired. It just goes to show that, at least in timeshare sector, you can't keep a â&#x20AC;&#x2039;badâ&#x20AC;&#x2039; man down.

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