by Joe Cottonwood
True story: Exactly 30 years ago, I finished the construction of my house in La Honda. We had the final inspection. Next, the tax assessor came out to take a look. Let's call him "Earl."
When Earl knocked on my door, he said, "Before I assess your house, come on out to my car for a minute. I want to show you something."
At the car Earl pulled out an assessment list for La Honda. He pointed to some entries. "See this lot? One acre, kinda hilly but you could build a nice house there. The assessment is forty thousand dollars. Then here, look at this. I rated this one myself. Also one acre, almost level, horse property, lots of sunshine, great view, fit for a king, and the assessment last year was for ten thousand." Earl shook his head. "A bit of variation, wouldn't you say?"
Next, Earl walked through the interior talking about how he could give us a break on one thing or another, like counting the unfinished half bathroom as a storage closet, and then he said, "Come on back to the car."
Earl got into the driver's seat. Reaching across, he opened the passenger door. "Come on in," he said.
I sat inside.
"Close the door," he said.
I closed the door.
"Well?" he said.
It was pretty clear that this was the moment when I was supposed to hand over a bribe. Or was this a trap? I'd always heard that government in California was clean, not like Chicago. I'd never heard a word about scandal in San Mateo County. But here was Earl. Here was I, in his car.
"Uh, thanks for looking at my house," I said, and I got out of the car.
Earl drove away.
In the mail I received my new tax assessment, and it seemed to be on the high side.
Thirty years later, it still rankles me. I don't mind paying my fair share, and yet… If I'd slipped him a few twenties, how many thousands of dollars would I have saved over the years? And how many of my neighbors took advantage of what he was offering?
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