B-L-O-O-D

Lindsey and I took my newphews to Dairy Queen tonight to celebrate the new school year. Jacob has been in pre-school for a full week and loves it. Sam just started first grade this week and claims the playground is "boring" and his favorite topic is lunch. I've never experienced him as wound up as he was tonight. Every sentence started with, "You know what?...." and then a facinating fact about Godzilla or the Muppet Movie, which it seems he has memorized. It was hysterical. Jacob ate an ice cream sandwich by munching all the chocolate cookie off one side, then the other, then taking maybe a dozen licks off the remaining hockeypuck-like disc of dairy. Afterwards we went to Party City to look at Halloween stuff, because they love the holiday and the gore. They both are freaked out by blood and won't say the word, but spell it out. "Jacob look at the b-l-o-o-d on this witches hand." It was all fun and I'm glad that we will be able to spend more time together--now that they are back in St. Louis.

Monkey on my back

Tomorrow I close on the house. 6811 Fyler will no longer be mine. I was a bit sad--but after sinking $2000 into a new electrical panel, $2000 into a new furnance, $1500 on a radon mitigation system, and getting totally lowballed on our asking price...I'm very ready to say goodbye to the place. We put so much work into getting the place in tip top shape and then to have to replace two major systems and have the market go south on us. It has been a very discouraging process. Very discouraging.

Lindsey and I went over tonight to get the very last of the items left over there and to harvest the last of my basil. We had a feast of homemade pesto with fresh tomatoes and pasta. It was delicious. While we were picking basil two ladies came into the driveway and asked, "Is this M******'s house?" "Not until tomorrow," I said. They looked a little taken aback. I didn't mean to sound curt. I just meant that I'm not counting my chickens before they are hatched...I won't believe it until I see it...I'm so used to being disappointed in this process. From the first contract falling through until today, when the stupid oven wouldn't light and Laclede didn't pass it. I've learned to expect bad news. So until I sign the last line of tomorrow's contract...no, until the check clears...I still consider that house a monkey on my back. I loved it for so long. No more. No more. Ready to move on. Becca joked today that maybe the house wasn't ready to let me go.

Progress

I got a few phone calls today about the 52nd City business license. I was very encouraged by this. I think we are going to have things squared away very soon. Don't know why the wheels are turning, but glad they are.

St. Louis City Hall

I don’t want to have to say it. I love my city, but hate City Hall. When I would hear complaints from various acquaintances about the difficulty of trying to obtain a business license or dealing with city workers, I was often skeptical. “How bad could it really be?” I thought.

Well today, I found out.

Admittedly, 52nd City has been slow on the draw in obtaining our city business license and setting up proper shop. To get legit, there are about a half dozen entities we have to submit papers to—state, city, federal taxes, occupancy permit waiver for our imaginary office, earnings tax clearance, LLC paperwork, etc. All this for three do-gooders who publish a magazine and barely sell enough to cover the print costs? We don’t get paid. We don’t pay anyone (except our printers). And we certainly have no profit. But we want to do the right thing.

So after receiving a “Delinquent Application” notice, we figure this is the time to deal with all this once and for all. I call City Hall this week to try to get some answers about what we owe. The lady I talked to gave me three different answers. First, she insisted we owed $150.
“It is your first license filing, right?”
“Yes, but the application says there is a penalty.”
“How many employees do you have?”
“We don’t have any employees, there are three of us that…”
“You owe $150 ma’am.”
“Even though it is marked delinquent and says to add 35% as of August 1.”
“It is the first time you are filing?"
"Yes, but it is stamped delinquent."
"Where does it say that ma’am?”
“On the top of the application.”
“Well, I guess you better pay what it says.”
“Well do I pay for 0-2 employees or 3-5 employees because we don’t have any paid employees?”
“Ma’am maybe you better just come down here and get your questions answered here.”

Okay...

So today, I go down to License Collector office at City Hall in room 104. I take a number and sit down. The city worker is helping an immigrant couple with some sort of business licensing issue. I hear someone ask, “Can I help you ma’am?”
But I see no one. I figure out it is the lady behind the giant computer monitor helping the couple.
“I have some questions about our business license.”
“What kind of questions ma’am?”
“Just some general questions,” I answer wondering why she doesn’t finish assisting the other couple before trying to help me and still not really seeing who I am talking to.
“Have a seat,” she says as she stands and starts walking to retrieve some paperwork for the other couple.
I sit and get out my folder.
As she continues to do minor paperworky stuff for the couple, she asks me again, “What kind of questions do you have?”
“I need to find out how much our business license fee…”
“One hundred and fifty dollars ma’am.”
“But the form says there is a penalty for late filing and…"
“Two hundred and two dollars and fifty cents ma’am.”
Then she walks away to finish business with the couple. As they leave she tells me, “You can move to this seat.”
So I scoot down. I pull out my form.
“I want to explain what we do so I can find out if…”
“Can I help you sir?” she interrupts to inquire of the man who sat down in the chair I just left.
“The office upstairs told me yesterday that I need to come to room 104 to have this stamped.”
“Well what is it, sir?”
He tries to explain, but she continues to interrupt him.
He finally says, “I’m just telling you what they told me.”
“Well they told you wrong, you need to go to room blah blah blah.”
He left completely frustrated and dejected. She never once even looked at the paper he had to try to see if she could offer more help or insight.
So she returns to assist me.
“You owe two hundred and five dollars and fifty cents ma’am.”
I think, "well ok...if that's what she says." I write this down on my folder.
“Okay, can you let me ask…”
“What else do you need to know ma’am?” she says this like she can't understand why I would have any other questions.
“That’s what I’m trying to explain. There are three of us. We are an LLC. We publish and sell a magazine but make no profit. We don’t get paid and we don’t pay anyone. Are there more papers I have to submit because the lady on the phone said something about an occupancy permit…”
“No,” she interrupts and answers with disdain. “That is already here in the computer,” like I am supposed to be able tell that from looking at the back of the computer monitor that they already know a waiver was issued.
“She also said something about an earnings waiv...”
“You need a tax clearance from room 410.”
“Saying that the company earned nothing or that we as individuals ea…”
“You need a tax clearance from room 410. Do you have a tax number?”
“I have this form with a federal ID number,” and I show her.
“Well that isn’t the tax number on this,” she points to the business license. “Is that your social security number?”
“No, but maybe it is Thomas’s…I don’t know.”
I look at the number.
"Is that a federal ID numb…"
“I don’t know ma’am.”
“Well isn’t there a different number of digi…”
“I don’t know what that number is ma’am.”
“That is what I’m trying to find out.” I am so exasperated by her constantly cutting me off.
“Look, I’m just trying to get my questions answ…”
“I’m answering them ma’am. I don’t know what that number is.”
"I know you don't know whose it it is, but I'm trying to find out if social security numbers have a different number of digits than federal ID num..."
“I don't know what that number is ma'am."
She sits back in her chair and looks at me smugly.
"I’m trying to ask my questions without being cut…”
“Ma’m I’m answering your questions.”
“You aren’t letting me finish any of my sentences. Look, I called here this week,” I start to stand up and gather my things because I’m getting upset, “and got three different answers to what I owed, so they told me it would be easier to come down here, and now you keep interrupting me and are being completely difficu…
“Ma’am I don’t know why you are upset. I’m having a wonderful day,” she said sarcastically.”
“A wonderful day interrupting me. Your attitude is awful. I was warned about how awful it was to deal with City Hall, but this is ten times worse than I ever imagined. You have the worst attitude in customer service I have ev…”
“Ma’am I have answered your questions, you need to leave,” she said as I’m tearing up and leaving.
“This has been just awful. You are awful,” I said as I left in tears.
She continued to tell me to leave and waive me out the door from behind her mighty desk.

I leave the office. By the time I get to the security exit I’m in full tears. I’m so frustrated by how rude she was and at not getting resolution to my questions. I keep thinking about all the people who want to start businesses in the city and wonder if they have to encounter this kind of frustration and browbeating. I am trying to figure out what to do. Is there someone to complain to?

I stood at the door wondering if the shoe were on the other foot and someone was asking me sincerely inquiring questions in good faith (I just wanted to do the right thing dammit) would I have been so condescending and rude? No. I know I would not. I wondered, “Did I do something wrong? How could I have handled that differently?” She was so condescending she had me questioning myself. But I know I would never have been that mean to anyone needing help. And that is what I was there for. Help.

I am a smart person. Thomas and Stefene are smart people. This is not a smart process. It is difficult, cumbersome, defeating. And made even more frustrating because the whole point our magazine is to brag on our city. Again, I love my city. But I sure as hell hate City Hall after today.

I head out to my car. I’m still crying. I drive to Lafayette Square Park. I call the office I just left and am pretty sure it is her who answers the phone.
“City Hall, Roo…"
“To whom am I speaking?” I interrupt.
“This is G*****.”
“Thank you G*****,” I say sweetly.

I call the City Complaint line. I am put on hold for twelve minutes. No exaggeration. My cell phone tracks it. The lady takes my complaint with all the enthusiasm of a sloth. “File number 16188 will be sent to the License Collector’s office management.”
"Do I need to reference the file number for any letters I write?”
“Well you can, but make sure you tell them you already filed a report.” The subtext of her comment was, “Do whatever you want lady, it ain’t gonna matter.”

I have a feeling she is right.
I don’t know what to do next. Send in a check for $202.50 and wait for another letter, I suppose.

Hopeful

I'm feeling a little woogy today after having a little too much fun at the Mad Art opening last night. It was a really great show and crowd. Jess' portraits were amazing--she and Stef did a marvelous job. And Ilona's work looked gorgeous in teh space. I got up late today and took a 3 hour nap this afternoon. Lindsey is working away upstairs installing some closet cabinetry. We are getting ready to barbeque in a bit.

Yesterday I decided to offer free homemade pie for a year (one pie a month) to whoever buys my house. I don't know how much of an incentive that really is--but I'm hopeful. I put in on my web site and posted the news to a few places. We'll see what happens. I also got our 52nd City Cafe Press storefront set up, which was fun. Will the cash start rolling in for 52ndCity? I dunno. Again, I'm hopeful.