All the times I’ve talked of how a column of mine starts out in one direction, putters around a bit, and then takes off only to end up way over there somewhere…well that was never more apparent than the one I sent around on Thursday. Ya see, I never intended to do much more than mention the occupy people in Oakland, with their core of old worn out communists still rankling over the 60’s and 70’s, when they blew their chances to take over the world, and the latest delusional young generation living the obligatory we-can-save-the-world-and-Marx-is-the-way mantra which has been drummed into them by ALL those overpaid university and college professors. No, I was simply reacting to their harsh noise in support of Obamagenda, and of course, in the process, their need to reject the American way of life and that embarrassing successful capitalism thing. I know they simply want to save the world, which is a good thing, if impossible, and I cannot trifle much with that, for I was once that naïve myself. And besides that, they are probably going to win in the end, to all of our detriment.
No, I didn’t intend to spend the day riled about that. But I get carried away. You all know this.
What I wanted to eventually talk about was the simple logistics of saving the world. And that would mostly be the reality of paying for it. I didn’t have to invest all that energy in rehashing that same old stuff, cause ya’all already know it, and either nod your heads yes, or get all aghast when you disagree. No middle ground there, whatsoever.
My reference to leaping off a bridge had far less to do with the revulsion I feel for the rockthrowingshower-needingdisrespectfulmob, than it did with one phone call with one dimwitted but very persistent monotone speaking robotic clog person in the bureaucracy. And in that column I never got around to telling you about it. Sorry about that.
So, here’s what got me all stirred up…
Our mail comes, when it does, to one of those aluminum 8 boxes on a stick just down the street from our house. I drive right past it every day coming home from work, but I’m usually too tired to stop. When I finally get round toit, the box is generally crammed so full of junk mail that ya gotta tear that all to heck just getting it out. Which you have to do to find those three bills and the bank statement you’ve been waiting for to see if you can afford to hit the Safeway tomorrow. So I finally got round toit on Wednesday night. And I carried two armfuls of shredded junk and my three bills and yea! my bank statement into the house. And I carefully picked through the junk before tossing it unread into the recycling bin, because every once in a while there is a fourth bill hidden in there, and you know how embarrassing that can be when you don’t pay that one. Very carefully I searched.
And I found something. It was a nondescript but official looking letter addressed to the two of us living in our home. And for some reason, I opened it. Two words on page one caught my eye. FINAL NOTICE. They were in large print and highlighted in a BLACK BOX, so I guess somebody wanted to catch my eye. Maybe, they should have done something similar on the envelope, but that is another argument.
I don’t get many FINAL NOTICE letters, except from those out there who wish to refinance my home or in some other way put my money into some other pocket. And this was no different. Only this was to be a government pocket, so FINAL NOTICE takes on another meaning. Credit card companies can’t hurt me if I don’t want their card. Governments can.
The letter was a not so social, nor polite, request for a response from us, mostly me, since I had ignored all those other letters the city had sent to me in the past, and boy were they going to go serious on me now. Besides the HUH? part, as I have not received any such letters, I felt that little sense of outrage I tend to get when the government wishes to communicate with me. It’s that boot on my neck feeling.
The letter suggested that I should finally send in the money for the business license that the CITY OF CONCORD politely requested. Onna countof that home business that I run out of my home. You remember, the one I don’t run. Cause you see, I don’t run a business from my home. Oh, and don’t forget the 50% penalty because I’m so late. And while I’m at it, don’t forget to pay for the years 2008, 9, and 10. So with 11 tossed in there, that adds up to….let’s see…. That will be $366.00. Before 12/12, or we will start fining you up to $500.00 a day thereafter. ACK!!!
I’m still kinda naïve, so I dialed up the CITY OF CONCORD FINANCE OFFICE at the supplied number, for, ah, clarification. I was her first caller of the day. I was very polite, in the beginning. Marisol filled me in, and the call ended, abruptly. I applied for an exemption for 2011, per their rules. Maybe they will argue with that, cause I didn’t turn 62 until the year was part gone. I guess we will see. I’m doing my part to fund my government, and getting used to the fact that I’m gonna need to grow real comfortable with a lot more of this as we descend toward the future utopian world.
Meanwhile, here is the letter I sent in, as the CITY OF CONCORD needs my version of an excuse to shirk my responsibility in this matter. I’ll have someone let ya know if I end up in jail over this.
11/16/2011
Robert G Hallstrom DVM
Delta Animal Clinic
295 E Leland Road
Pittsburg, CA 94565
925-XXX-XXXX
Dear City of Concord, California
My name is Robert Hallstrom. I own and work full time at the Delta Animal Clinic in Pittsburg, CA. I spend nearly 60 hours a week in that building. I sleep at YYY XXX Place, Concord CA.
I am requesting an exemption from the Concord Business License Tax for the year 2011. I marked the exemption box for “I am 62 years of age, operating my business from home, and I make under $3600 per year.” under protest for I do not operate a business from my home.
I most certainly do not earn more than $3600 from any business in my home. And I am 62 years old. Ask my mother if you need verification.
I do attempt to write and once wrote a weekly column for the East County addition of the Contra Costa Times, for which I received the princely sum of $40 a week. I no longer write for this esteemed rag. And on one (1) occasion I sold a magazine article, but that was last year, and my income from writing this year (2011) will be zero.
I write in my office in Pittsburg, in my trailer while camping on the coast near Mendocino and in the Mojave, and only occasionally while staring at the ceiling of my bedroom in Concord in the dark of night when sleep will not come. I have never conducted the “business” of my “business” from my home in Concord. I have never emailed my newspaper column to my former editor at the newspaper from my home. I have never received payment at my home. None of my correspondence or phone calls with my editor were received at my home, and none of the tax related forms descending from my writing came addressed to me in my home. And the throngs of well-wishers clamoring for more of my writing rarely clog the street in front of my home.
If you wish to call my writing efforts a business, feel free. You flatter me. But I do not run a business from my home.
I do file state and federal income tax annually. And I dutifully included the small fortune I garnered from my writing when I submitted said tax forms. And I included my home address when I filed, figuring those folks expect that. If this means to you all that I run a business from this humble home, you have a much looser definition of business than anyone I can imagine, and frankly I think you should be ashamed of yourself.
But since you clearly hold the proverbial gun to my head, I shall pay your Business License Tax for the requested years: 2008, 2009, and 2010. I cannot afford to argue with you, and certainly do not wish to increase your booty to the tune of $500 a day simply because you get to write the rules. I would however, like to take advantage of your rule exempting us old folks from your victim pool, hence my request for this exemption.
I won’t be standing in Todos Santos Plaza with a sign, after skipping my showers for a week, in protest of this situation. But I do thank you for the inspiration as I write my next submission for my blog. In case you are wondering….you folks won’t come off well.
I apologize for contacting you folks so late in this process, but I have never received any previous notification from you regarding this little matter of a business license tax. And since I do not run a business in Concord, it never crossed my mind to ask. The young lady in the Finance office, Marisol, who answered my phone call this morning, was very patient and polite and you should laud her. She sounded a bit tired when I finally let her go. I hope I didn’t ruin her entire day. None of this nonsense is her fault, and I trust I wasn’t too hard on her. In fact, I kinda feel sorry for her, having to bite her lip as she implements her superiors’ mandates.
I retain my sense of humor. My editor at the paper fired me because my final column submitted was a defense of two of your fine Concord police officers. My editor was never in favor of complimenting any police officers, but since I have made the acquaintance of so many of your officers, I like to give them praise when I can. And I shall continue to do this. But I do find it ironic that the city these dedicated officers work to protect has so poorly managed its affairs that it feels it must stoop to this level of chicanery to extort money from its residents.
Thank you ever so much for your time
Bye the bye, this is written in Pittsburg, CA…not my home.
Robert G Hallstrom DVM
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