Frank Lloyd Wright would never have lasted in today’s world. By now he would have broken his T-square over the head of some building department official and retired to milk cows in Wisconsin or to pound sand in Arizona since architecture today is so very frustrating.
One of my clients has a “quick serve” restaurant. As part of a proposed remodel he wants to relocate his drive-thru menu board to face away from an adjacent residential neighborhood. While sound transmission isn’t my usual area of expertise (I’m an architect, Jim, not an acoustical engineer) I can tell you that pointing a drive-thru speaker AWAY from ax-grinding homeowners will probably make them happier.
With this faultless logic I confidently presented our variance request in a recent planning commission hearing and promptly ran into a buzz-saw of complaints about my client’s deficiencies as both a human being and a donut seller.
Construction projects today can’t commence without several acts of submission and contrition. First, you must notify everyone surrounding your site of your folly. Just because you own a building and pay taxes on it doesn’t mean your neighbors shouldn’t be given every opportunity to tell you what color they think you should paint it or what types of bushes you should plant around it or what kind of food they think you should serve inside it. It’s truly a mad, mad world.
Generally you must invite (by certified mail) all property owners within a radius of a thousand feet to attend a public hearing about your proposed project- which is a lot like being forced to carry the rope to your own hanging. When you cast such a large net many ugly things can be dredged up:
“Your delivery drivers honk at 4:00 a.m. to be let into your store.”
“Every morning at 6:00 your trash is picked up-- can’t you make it later?”
“You should have to build a fence.”
“Your donuts are stale.”
Boy did I screw up. Blithely thinking that re-directing the menu board away from the angry rabble would placate them, I was forced instead to account for transgressions previously unknown. Because I thought our proposal would be a slam dunk, my donut client was not in attendance. I was on my own, and there was nothing left to do but grovel:
“We’ll do anything you want; please just give us a permit.”
Since then, we’ve addressed the concerns of the neighbors. Delivery drivers have been instructed not to honk. Trash pick-up has been re-scheduled for later in the morning. We promised to build a new fence, the donuts are fresher, and up until this morning everything was looking good because two days ago the planning commission voted to recommend to the city council that they approve our variance request.
In a truly magnanimous gesture, I called the most vociferous complainer this morning to thank her for her concerns and express my subservient gratitude for her participation in civic government. Here’s what she said to me:
“Last night at 3:00 a.m. my husband called the police because one of your employees was singing what appeared to be an Indian love song over your drive-thru speaker. It sounded like Sanjaya Malakar on American Idol, but worse. Our dog wouldn’t stop barking.”
Oh well, back to the drawing board.
And pass me your T-square Frank; I may just need it.
One of my clients has a “quick serve” restaurant. As part of a proposed remodel he wants to relocate his drive-thru menu board to face away from an adjacent residential neighborhood. While sound transmission isn’t my usual area of expertise (I’m an architect, Jim, not an acoustical engineer) I can tell you that pointing a drive-thru speaker AWAY from ax-grinding homeowners will probably make them happier.
With this faultless logic I confidently presented our variance request in a recent planning commission hearing and promptly ran into a buzz-saw of complaints about my client’s deficiencies as both a human being and a donut seller.
Construction projects today can’t commence without several acts of submission and contrition. First, you must notify everyone surrounding your site of your folly. Just because you own a building and pay taxes on it doesn’t mean your neighbors shouldn’t be given every opportunity to tell you what color they think you should paint it or what types of bushes you should plant around it or what kind of food they think you should serve inside it. It’s truly a mad, mad world.
Generally you must invite (by certified mail) all property owners within a radius of a thousand feet to attend a public hearing about your proposed project- which is a lot like being forced to carry the rope to your own hanging. When you cast such a large net many ugly things can be dredged up:
“Your delivery drivers honk at 4:00 a.m. to be let into your store.”
“Every morning at 6:00 your trash is picked up-- can’t you make it later?”
“You should have to build a fence.”
“Your donuts are stale.”
Boy did I screw up. Blithely thinking that re-directing the menu board away from the angry rabble would placate them, I was forced instead to account for transgressions previously unknown. Because I thought our proposal would be a slam dunk, my donut client was not in attendance. I was on my own, and there was nothing left to do but grovel:
“We’ll do anything you want; please just give us a permit.”
Since then, we’ve addressed the concerns of the neighbors. Delivery drivers have been instructed not to honk. Trash pick-up has been re-scheduled for later in the morning. We promised to build a new fence, the donuts are fresher, and up until this morning everything was looking good because two days ago the planning commission voted to recommend to the city council that they approve our variance request.
In a truly magnanimous gesture, I called the most vociferous complainer this morning to thank her for her concerns and express my subservient gratitude for her participation in civic government. Here’s what she said to me:
“Last night at 3:00 a.m. my husband called the police because one of your employees was singing what appeared to be an Indian love song over your drive-thru speaker. It sounded like Sanjaya Malakar on American Idol, but worse. Our dog wouldn’t stop barking.”
Oh well, back to the drawing board.
And pass me your T-square Frank; I may just need it.
1 comment:
That my son is the trouble with all manner of government today. The governing bodies are trying to legislate brains and like my Grand Daddy told me "You can't legislate brains, you either gots 'em or you don't."
I hope you told the lady to move to a quieter less populated area of the world.
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