Bentley Little: The Store

The mayor nodded at him. "Please step up to the podium and state your name and address for the record."

Bill walked up the side aisle to the front of the council chambers and stood at the speaker's podium. He adjusted the microphone in front of him and spoke into it. "My name is Bill Davis. I live at 121 Rock Springs Lane."

The mayor motioned for him to continue.

Bill glanced around the council chambers and cleared his throat nervously.

"We all know that The Store is coming to Juniper, and I'm sure most of you have noticed by now that construction workers have decimated a stretch of land next to the highway just this side of the Acres. I jog by there every morning, so I saw it immediately. I understand that that's The Store's property, and I realize that they have to clear the land in order to put up the store and parking lot and everything, but I'm pretty sure that our local building codes are not being followed, and I know this goes against the town's Master Plan."

He paused, was about to continue, but the mayor spoke first. "We appreciate your concern, Mr. Davis, but The Store has proved in other towns to be a responsible and respected addition to the community. It's true that designs for The Store do not conform to Juniper's Master Plan and do differ in some respects from our local codes and ordinances, but compromises were required to lure The Store to our town, and we think the tradeoffs were worth it. More jobs are going to be created, better goods will be provided to our citizens, everyone will be better off in the long run."

"I understand that," Bill said. "But why doesn't The Store have to follow the same rules everyone else has to follow? I don't think they should be exempt from the law, and I'll bet a lot of our local businessmen feel the same way."

"The Store is a national chain," the mayor said. "For obvious reasons, they have their own building designs and construction standards. They want all of their retail outlets, in every town, to look the same so they're easily recognizable. The corporation does not cave in to local pressures because it has a national agenda."

"It's like McDonald's or Burger King," Bill Reid, the councilman to the mayor's right, spoke up. "They all look the same. They have to. Otherwise, their national ads wouldn't work."

"I also have to point out," the mayor added, "that all of the towns that have a Store allow the corporation to dictate the terms of its construction. If we hadn't acceded to their wishes, Randall would have. And we would have lost The Store."

"I think we could have kept The Store and maintained our local standards, preserved the character of our town. I don't think it was necessary to totally decimate the property in order to put up a building. Hell, that's what those codes and ordinances are supposed to prevent. Our strongest selling point here is our natural beauty. I don't think we should let anyone take that away from us." A burly, bearded, belligerent-looking man seated in the back of the council chambers stood up and strode angrily to the front of the room. Bill didn't know the man, but he'd seen him around town and he stood aside as the man stepped up to the podium and the microphone.

"State your name and address," the mayor said.

"Greg Hargrove," the man said. "1515 Aspen Road."

Bill wasn't sure if his turn was over and he was supposed to sit down, but he wasn't through talking, so he remained where he was.

Hargrove turned on him. "What's your problem, mister?"

Bill was taken aback. "What?"

"My company cleared that land. We followed the specs given to us by The Store, and we have all the proper permits. What the hell's your problem?"

"I have no problem with you," Bill said. "You were just doing your job. I have a problem with The Store's plans and with the fact that the Planning Commission and the council allowed the company to ignore our local ordinances and destroy one of the most scenic pieces of property in the area."

Hargrove shook his head disgustedly. "The Store will create jobs. Don't you understand that? All you tree-huggers care about is saving squirrels. You don't give a damn about people."

"You're wrong. I do care about people. I care about the people in this town. And I'm thinking of what's best for the long-term interest of all of Juniper, not just the short-term benefit to you and other construction workers."

"Bullshit!"

Hargrove was getting angry, really angry, and Bill stepped back, taking his hands out of his pockets and keeping them free -- in case he needed to use them to defend himself.

"We will not have that sort of language in the council chambers," the mayor said.

"We moved to this town because of the area," Bill said evenly. "Believe it or not, the environment here - the trees, the forest, the mountains -- is the town's major selling point. People don't move here for city reasons or city jobs. That's why they move to Phoenix. Or Chicago. Or L.A. That's not why they move to Juniper."

"All you care about --"

"Maintaining jobs and protecting the environment are not mutually exclusive. You're thinking in old terms. You're thinking of the past. That's one of the great advantages of the Information Superhighway. With computers, you can now work for a company in New York or Los Angeles or, hell, even Paris or London, and have your office right here in Juniper. That's what I do. What I'm trying to say is that, yes, we need jobs here, but we can bring jobs to our area without sacrificing our quality of life."

"Well, I'm not a computer geek. I own a construction business. You can't do my work with a computer."

"I understand that --"

"You don't understand shit! All you environmentalists want to protect every square inch of land, but you don't give a damn how it affects businesses like mine. How much more do you want to protect? The government already owns all the land around here! The whole fucking county's practically BLM territory!"

"Mr. Hargrove!" the mayor said. "If you continue to use that sort of language, I will have you removed from the council chambers."

"Sorry, your honor." Hargrove looked embarrassed.

"Look," Bill said. "If Ted Turner or Bill Gates or some other billionaire bought exactly that same land, decided to protect it and put up a big fence around it, leaving it as is, you'd have no problem with it. Why is it okay for an individual to save land for himself but not okay for the government to save land for future generations? Two hundred years ago, there were only thirteen little colonies on the east coast of our country. Now we have chain stores in Juniper! If things continue at this rate, our great-grandchildren will be living in a world like _Soylent Green_ or _Silent Running_!"

"_Soylent Green_." Hargrove grinned. "Good movie."

"That's not the point. We need to think about the future --"

"Mr. Davis," the mayor said. "I think we've had enough discussion on this subject. I appreciate your concern, but I think you're starting to get a little melodramatic. The world is not going to end because The Store is coming to Juniper. What will happen is that we'll have more jobs and a better place to shop. Period. I think you should both sit down." He looked out at the sparsely populated auditorium. "If anyone else has anything to add on this subject or has anything else to bring up, please step forward to the podium."

Bill walked back to his seat, slumped into the chair next to Ben.

"Game over," the editor said. "Davis zip. Store takes it in straight sets."

Bill looked over at his friend. "Thanks."

He drove home angry, feeling depressed. The mayor had been right. He _had_ been melodramatic, and that asshole Hargrove had gotten him off on a tangent and his whole argument had gotten derailed. He thought again that he should've written everything out ahead of time and read it.