RED TAPE RUMBLE – BUREAUCRACY IN A SMALL TOWN

We have all been there at one time or another. In fact, we’ve all, sadly, been there on many, many occasions. It always begins the same way: a cold, sick feeling starts somewhere deep within your core and rapidly emanates to your limbs. Oxygen, that moments ago was plentiful, has seemingly abandoned the air as you desperately gasp for breath. All the while, your mind contorts, envisioning the torment of the trial you must now face.

Yes. You have unwittingly been confronted with some form of bureaucratic problem; a ridiculous, unnecessary issue generated by a person, agency, system or process that you alone must face and resolve. To do so also requires a tremendous amount of your precious time, patience, and energy, lest you be subjected to a form of unwarranted, adverse consequence. Now it is time to breathe deep and prepare for the proverbial ‘Red Tape Rumble.’

THE RED TAPE RUMBLE

I call these bureaucratic nightmares, ‘B-holes,’ as they are analogous to the dreaded ‘K-holes’ ofttimes suffered by users of the drug Ketamine as the physical and psychological experiences are similar: dizziness, nausea, increased blood pressure, panic, anxiety, and confusion. Oh, and because, generally, it’s an ‘A-hole’ that throws you into a ‘B-hole.’

If, for some reason, this concept remains opaque, close your eyes and envision the moment you realize your identity has been stolen, your computer completely crashes, or the state tries to steal your money like they did to my pal Freddy Smidlap. These are all perfectly great examples of falling in to a ‘B-hole.’

Fortunately, these sorts of entanglements, while consistent throughout life, are rather infrequent, but horrific when they do occur. Since many of my ‘B-holes’ surround local and state agencies as they happen to be the specimen of bureaucracy I seem to deal with most, I was curious to see how they may play out here in my little hamlet of Neverwhere, WA. Not surprising, they actually happen to be startlingly different than those I have previously experienced.

As regular readers know, up until earlier this year, I spent my entire adult life in Southern California, specifically in the counties of Los Angeles & Orange. With over 23 million people in the larger metropolitan area, it is the 2^nd largest populated piece of real estate in the US and the bureaucracy is unfathomably horrendous, even at a small city level.

LET’S TALK TREES, PLEASE

As most of you know, So. Cal. only recently emerged from a significant 4+ year drought. Even as a lifelong native, I had never seen anything quite like this and it resulted in record low levels for reservoirs, water rationing, and limitations on even using water for certain activities such as washing your car in your driveway. Needless to say, the entirety of the state began to slowly wither and die – particularly the trees.

In front of my former home, on the city-owned parkway, there was a gorgeous, very old and stunning acacia tree. It was beautiful to behold and was a key element in my home’s curb appeal. Once the drought hit, it immediately began to show signs of stress and, consequently, so did I. I immediately reached out to the city to get them involved in working with me to help save this tree. Crickets – No response. Fast forward: 3 years of continued deterioration, despite my personal efforts of resuscitation and multiple calls and letters to a non-responsive city, I receive a knock on my door.

It was the ‘Head City Arborist.’ A little late, but okay. At long last I had a partner to help turn this situation around. Imagine my chagrin when I realized he was there only to inform me that he was going to cut the tree down – RIGHT NOW! He politely listened to the story above, but remained resolute in his decision to take out the tree. I appealed to his profession and passion as a lifelong tree scientist and what a coup it would be to save it. Turns out ‘Head City Arborist’ did not have a degree in urban forestry, or any degree at all actually, and had no other science-based certifications. The only experience this motherfucker had was with a chainsaw and a chipper.

I literally sat there and wept as they made short work in destroying a historic tree that, likely, could have been rescued.

When building Fate Estate last year, I knew that I wanted to get some trees in along the property line and in other strategic places. Since I know little about trees, I decided to reach out to the Conservation District, a department of my small county (a department that does not exist at all in ‘The OC’ btw). My call was immediately answered and I was put in touch with the head of the department, Dean. He spent nearly an hour fielding my sundry questions all the while flinging out a never-ending stream of ideas, reference books, websites, and other state resources.

Turns out, Dean also has a Master’s Degree in Forestry and has been in his role for some time. This dude was super-stoked about trees. I’m still stunned by what occurred next. Dean offered to personally come out to my property and partner with me on the ‘design/tree landscape’ plan as well as making suggestions on the specific types of trees, shrubs, and planting plots to achieve my vision. Wow, right? He was quarantined at the time, but yesterday I got an envelope from him with a ton of information and a note asking me to call to schedule a time to come out to visit! Awesome.

GOT MY WHEELS A ROLLIN’

That was one example of the differences I experienced in the bureaucratic process between my current and former counties, but that dealt with a very non-standard topic. I was really curious to see how my experience at the DMV would be as I needed to get a new driver’s license, register our cars, and change the title on an old 4X4 SUV I had purchased.

Before I left California, I wanted to dump my car’s vanity plates which required that I physically visit a DMV location. Talk about falling into a ‘B-hole.’ Anywho, I figured, I’d be clever and go online to book an appointment so as to avoid the 5+ hour wait. Turns out the soonest appointment I could get was 8 months later! And into the ‘B-hole’ I fell. You’ve been there, so I’ll spare you the details, but it involved 2 separate visits (due to DMV incompetence) and over 6 hours of waiting. You know things are bad when people have brought beach chairs, umbrellas, and packed a lunch. Jesus.

It was quite a divergent, and frankly surreal, situation when I walked in to a completely deserted DMV office in the town that serves as the county seat. There were two people working who were pleasant, helpful and ‘got ‘er did’ in about 10 minutes. They also spent a ton of time answering all of my questions. They did tell me that I had to visit another county department to handle the vehicle registration & title. I thought, ‘Yep, I knew this was too good to be true.’ And off we went.

The county recorder was located in the courthouse and I was beginning to fret about falling into a ‘B-hole.’ In reality, the licensing department was a woman named ‘Jane’ and I sat at her desk, gave her the paperwork and instantaneously received our plates, tags, registration and title change. This time it took less than 10 minutes. No beach chair required.

CAN THIS BE REAL?

While these are only two examples of the shocking difference in bureaucratic experiences between our current and former homes, there are many, many more. To date I have dealt with the county building division, tax assessor, inspector, and waste management departments. I’ve also dealt with the state social security office and good ol’ USPS. Even the state university forestry department was happy to help diagnose a disease on an old tree on my parent’s property.

As you might imagine, every single interaction was professional, efficient, and expeditious and the representatives trained, helpful and just plain kind. In short, it is the antithesis of every experience I have previously had with these types of agencies. A lifetime of living in So. Cal., has conditioned me to expect ‘B-holes’ as the default state in any bureaucratic situation. It has conditioned me to anticipate interactions typified by adversarial ‘Gotcha moments’ rather than polite service, partnership, help and kindness.

A SERENDIPITOUS BENEFIT OF GEOARBITRAGE

Suffice it to say, it was impossible to have ever imagined any of this. It would never occur to me that this is the way that these sorts of things could be – the complete absence of The Red Tape Rumble and ‘B-holes.’ I’m certainly not naive enough to believe that I can perpetually avoid some bureaucratic conflict, but at least I can be confident that it is the rare exception as opposed to the perennial rule.

What I have discovered, is a singular, serendipitous variant of psychological arbitrage. Something that I’ve never even heard of, read about, or experienced, but does, indeed, exist. And for that, I am grateful to be living out here in the Washington countryside. I’m still a bit taken aback by it all to be honest, but it is certainly a wonderful feeling.

HOW ABOUT YOU?

How about you? How are your interactions with bureaucratic entities? What’s your latest Red Tape Rumble and how are you faring? I’d be interested in hearing from you!