An anguished lament

Poor California. Once the world’s hope for innovation and achievement and all that. Now the world’s best example of bad governance. Horrible budget mess. Highest taxes. Awful schools. Totally trashed liberties.

And we’re stuck with it. Having a business that is anchored to the ground can be trying. We have gorgeous scenery, a pristine river, hot springs, meadows and all that. But you can’t dig it all up and move it to Montana or Dakota where taxes and regulations are not so onerous. California has been grasped by over-regulators and greedy labor unions and bought-and-paid-for politicians who pander to all of them.

Years ago we had to remove a perfectly good underground 1,000-gallon gasoline tank. We used to check the tank at the end of the season to see how much gas remained. At the beginning of the following season we checked it again. It never varied. But California declared that all underground tanks leaked and were destroying the planet, maybe even the whole universe. We had to remove it.

The workers removing the tank were way outnumbered by the horde of bureaucrats overseeing the operation. Representatives from five federal and state and county agencies were there with their clipboards and thermoses full of coffee. They commiserated as the backhoe operator tore away the sand and gravel that covered the tank that had been serviceable since 1949. It was beautiful—not even rusty since it was buried in soil that drained as quickly as moisture came through. We had emptied it of fuel as instructed and it barely smelled gassy. It was ritually triple-rinsed. Later on a state inspector came up with a sniffer to find any leakage contaminating the the soil. None was detected.

We had to install a 6-ton double-walled steel and concrete above-ground tank that was certified to be Bullet proof and Fire proof and Earthquake proof and Everything Else proof.

It cost us over $15,000.

And we don’t even sell gasoline to the public; it was just used for our ferry boats.

We asked the bureaucrats in attendance who we should contact to legalize our new tank. They shrugged. Over the years random bureaucrats wandered by and laid claim to the new above-ground tank. “Don’t you know you have to register with the Hazardous Substances people? How about the Toxic folks? The Spill Handling people? The Air Quality board? The Annoyers?” We had to buy some very expensive bomb-proof containers of absorbent materials and personnel protection gear and train everyone who pumps gas into a can as to what to do if some gas spills when they remove the nozzle. Fire extinguishers. Adsorbent and absorbent pads. Placards warning of hazardous materials. Personnel protective hazardous substance clothing. Every year we have to fill out forms sent by various agencies and pay their fees and assessments and other charges for overseeing our stupid gas tank. All of them threaten that we could be in violation of their rules and subject to fines if we don’t comply. Immediately.

It’s amazing how many regulatory agencies there are in just this one county. Nowhere did we find a guide to list all the things we have to do in order to conduct business without violating some law. None of the agencies has a list of all their cronies in the regulation business. You’re on your own, and subject to fines for your ignorance.

And that’s only gasoline. There’s the oil you drain from a generator. The battery you remove from a truck. All toxic. All regulated. All charged for by some unneeded agency that only wants more money from you.

Addendum: I forgot to say that this shiny new gas tank caught the eye of another bureaucrat who lets us hire an outfit to come up and check it out every year to see that the vent works properly. The check takes about 5 minutes. We get charged $450 for the privilege, and that’s cheap because we schedule the check the same day as PG&E gets their tank in the mountains checked too.

Being in business used to be fun. You try to create something people desire and be rewarded for it.

I am ready to leave California. Permanently.