Landowners, however, can complicate the process to the point of absurdity.

Planning Commissioners are volunteers. We are average citizens who are either appointed, or nominated and elected, by city council. We bring the love of our place and neighborhoods to the position. Most are unpaid; some receive a small stipend. We all want to make decisions in the best interest of our communities.

Sometimes property owners make that very difficult.

Back to the administrative rezone.

Months ago (really, months ago) the city brought one to our attention. A swath of land had somehow gone un-zoned for about 50 years.

The property is in an older neighborhood that has been severed from easy access to the city center by railroad tracks, a highway, and a light rail system.

The neighborhood also became a de facto area to put industrial uses. It is not exaggerating to say the neighborhood has been abused by past decisions. It became the ‘other side of the tracks.’

City planning staff came up with a very appropriate zone designation that would prevent medium to heavy industrial use and gave the owner flexibility on how it could be developed.

Enter the owner.

He was pissed.

The owner’s goals were very much not in line with the community and the neighborhood. His vision was to use the land to store trucks, pool installation equipment, and chemicals on the site. Basically turn it into a depot.

Did I mention, he doesn't live in our community. He lives about 15 miles to the north in a much wealthier suburb. He would not have to live with the eyesore he wanted to create.

He was belligerent, a bully, and a generally unpleasant person. He insulted every member of the commission and the city staff. He also came very close to being ejected from the meeting.

By the end, none of us wanted to deal with him let alone give him the zoning designation he wanted.

We tabled it to the next month. During the interim, staff spent time attempting to negotiate with the land owner.

It was deferred again the next month.

So, finally it came before us again.

Guess what…

It was given the zoning designation that was first brought to the commission four months earlier.

If you have to bring a permit, variance, or zoning request to your commission, don’t be that guy.

I remember one in particular that I had to do. It was to design a book all the way through from concept, to design, to publishing, to sales. All the steps. (Lucky for my group I had taken graphic design classes.) We would meet at my home to talk about division of labor, help each other out if needed, and check each other’s progress.

But there was that one Guy…

Guy never showed up to our meetings. He didn’t respond to emails or group chat messages. He never let us know what he was coming up with for his part of the project. We had no idea what Guy was doing. His part? He had to come up with the sales and marketing plan.

Going into the actual presentation to the class, we had no idea what to expect from him.

It wasn’t pretty.

He had come up with a plan, but had never let us know what it was. We were all very surprised and had a few issues with his work. This could have been prevented if he had communicated with us.

Why am I telling you all this? Because group projects never go away in our professional lives. We may think they are a thing of the past, but that really isn’t true. This was made very clear during a planning and zoning commission meeting just two months ago.

As a P&Z commissioner I get to see all kinds of projects and requests. Some of the projects require multiple parts (building design, environmental reports, water, parking, sewer, etc). Each part has it’s own professional expert. Voila! Group project. It then has to be presented to the appropriate city/county departments, one or more commissions, and to city/county councils for final approval.

It is an expensive endeavor to put together a good set of plans and elevations. Each member of the team needs to communicate to get the job done right.

Well… there’s still always a Guy.

For example: a group was bringing forward an infill project. The agenda description looked like it should have been an easy approval. Unfortunately, Guy struck again.

The presentation was a mess. The wrong images were included and we could not read the drawings. The applicant had to try to create an image of what they really wanted to do by describing it in words.

The applicant apologized for not having the correct elevations, and definitely threw Guy under the bus. And, Guy deserved it.

In this case, Guy was actually hired to provide the information and elevations. He sent the wrong ones to the applicant, probably at the last minute. The applicant was embarrassed. He was also out a chunk of cash.

What could have prevented the issues? Honestly, at the very least, checking the work several days before the presentation. It would have provided time to fix errors and omissions. Of course, that assumes your contractor sends the completed work in a timely manner.

If your technical expert is from an outside organization, keep communicating with them. Check their work regularly. Make sure they understand what you need and when you need it.

This advice applies to any endeavor that involves more than one person, whether it be a duo or a dozen.

And, for everyone’s sake, do not wait until five minutes before the presentation to check what slides and images are included.

Once upon a time… CDF held an event for reporters I think of as a play day. I had a wonderful time rappelling down a tower, driving a fire engine, and crawling into a cement building. Then they set a pile of debris on fire in the center of building.

Those tanks are heavy and so are the turnouts. They are awkward to move in and hot as Hades. I much preferred to wear the Nomex, when out covering woodland fires.

Something else I learned: fire doubles in size every 30-60 seconds. Time depends on fuel type, air flow, and the presence of a fire suppression system. Those suppression systems delay the spread so the occupants can get out. They should not be relied upon to put out the fire.

I sighed with relief when the air-conditioning hit me as I entered Findley Hall. The old-fashioned portrait of the department founder looks very out of place in the renovated, modern lobby that houses the Political Science Department. Ira Findley’s glare was enough to scare freshmen right out of school.

I hit the button for the elevator and saw my reflection in the burnished metal panel. I look homeless, not at all like I belong in the building. Self-conciously I started tucking my escaped hair back into its headband. My clothing was so rumpled I look like I’d slept in my car, which was close enough to the truth. I’d actually spent the past two nights in a cheap motel just off 99. Until our first disbursement checks came in I was living off of my slim savings account.

I smoothed down my wrinkled shirt front with one hand in a useless attempt to straighten it out. I had pulled the shirt out of my suitcase that morning so it was already a little rumpled before the hot walk across campus. I could feel it sticking to the sweat on my back.

Yuck.

It was strange to be on a university campus again. I thought journalism was my life’s calling. I spent seven years of my life working as a police and fire reporter. Working the beat was very exciting, but witnessing all the death and disaster? That takes a toll.

In a moment of personal crisis, I chucked it all in to find something different. I took the opportunity to slip out of my hometown, move down to what I lovingly call middle California, and begin a PhD program in political science at UC Elkhart.

I punched the elevator call button three more times.

“Does everyone feel this way?” I asked myself.

“Feel what way?” The unexpected male voice behind me caused me to jump.

“Shit. I said that out loud didn’t I? Sorry.” I turned to face him and all I saw was chest. At 5’4” I was definitely of average height, my new friend was not. I had to look up to see his smiling face. He was easily six-five. His clothing was freshly pressed.

The doors opened and I hit the button for the Political Science Department on the fourth floor. When he didn’t reach for another button, I realized we were going to the same orientation.

“Hi. I’m Melinda Payson. Anxious new grad student.”

Another portrait, this time of the department chair, greeted us when the doors opened. At least she was smiling, I thought.

A sign with a big black arrow pointed us towards the orientation room.