America's invisible battle with town permitting

The most intimate level of local government bears the majority of anti-business and anti-farm responsibility in the country

PART 7

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I notice in our present day country, our population focuses its attention on the highest levels of government: the president, the Supreme Court, governors, congressmen and women, and senators. It’s what captivates motivated millennials and Gen Z who do, truly, want to make a positive change. What they fail to understand is that the highest levels of government have the smallest impact on their day-to-day lives.

In fact, the governor of your state has nearly no impact on your ability to host the public at your farm, for example. Since we are living during a ‘big government’ period in our country right now, the average American is not aware that these layers of governmental overreach weren’t always the norm in this country. And these layers, otherwise known as governmental bureaucracy, have become so bloated that they make it nearly impossible for a new business owner or farm founder to launch a public venture.

If you’re asking yourself how I know this, it’s because I just lived it - and am still living it. My first experience with local special use permitting kicked off in May of this year when I received an agitated call from the town zoning officer, as he scolded me for not initiating the process sooner.

“You have to submit for a special use permit from the town now,” he said on the phone.

“Ok, what does that entail? Do I get an application somewhere?” I said.

“Call Susan about picking up the packet for it - that’s all I know,” he said. “You can’t run a business in your structure until you get this permit. And you need to send me a business plan today.”

“I can write one up - do you have a length or topics you want me to cover?”

He made me feel like I was wasting his time throughout this entire phone call. My heart was beating quickly in my chest. I felt like I had done something wrong.

This wasn’t the first time they used this tactic. I noticed throughout the permitting process, the town government leveraged two tactics to intimidate me:

1. Always being in a rush: Any time I spoke to any person involved with permitting, they couldn’t hang up fast enough. This created confusion and made it hard for me to follow what they were saying.

2. Never giving definitive answers: These people have been briefed, carefully, to never actually give an answer to your question. You can ask all you want… they aren’t going to tell you an answer. They don’t want to be legally liable in case the process goes south.

Mind you, these people are paid with YOUR tax dollars to answer these questions for you. They not only don’t answer the questions, but they also don’t point you in the right direction for where you can find the answers. You’re on your own, and any time you ask them a question related to your problem, they make you feel like the biggest nuisance in the world, with a condescending tone that implies ‘you’ve done something wrong.’

At the same time, they make it hard for you to pin them down. It turns out Susan only accepts calls related to permitting from 7 until 9AM just Tuesday-Thursday. I can’t tell you how many times things were changed on me midday Thursday, and I couldn’t reach this woman until Tuesday morning. That’s a long time to sit with absolute panic that you’re not going to be able to open your business.

In the case of the zoning officer, he doesn’t answer his calls once he decides you’re not worth it. If you leave a message, he waits 10 to 14 days to get back to you. He did this to the Amish towards the end of my barn project when he decided we were all one big problem to him.

The bigger problem here isn’t that these people dodge phone calls or yell at you through emails. It’s that they wield a level of power they should have never been granted in the first place. And they were able to wield this power by the public’s general indifference to growing government over the last half century. There should be checks and balances on the sole person that is able to:

• decide if the structure is sound

• decide if multi-thousand dollar changes need to be made to the structure

• decide what kind of business you get to run on YOUR land

You might be saying to yourself… well surely there’s a superior to this person? Right?

Yes, there is usually a town supervisor or a mayor. But guess what? Those of you reading this from small towns know what I am going to say. It’s one big good ole’ boys club that covers each other’s backs to protect their government perks and pensions. If you escalate it past to the town to the county, they may listen to your case. Or they may brush over it since those in charge of your town fund the county campaigns. You get where I am going with this.

And the person who is screwed over in the end is the little guy. It’s the entrepreneur, the farm owner, the first generation farmer, the small business owner, and the newcomer who’s hoping to add some of their creativity to the town. And that brings me to my own personal battle with local government, as well as what I have learned by talking to business owners and farmers in the area. And boy, do I have stories.

Our first permitting snafu

I knew this whole permitting thing wasn’t going to go swimmingly when the Amish built my structure at lightning speed. Town governments don’t like when you change up their schedule on them, even though they are elected to serve you, the people. I watched this agitate the zoning officer back in April, to the point where drivers and other people on the premise told me about his temper each time he would sign-off on something with the Amish.

We went back-and-forth with some building permitting problems; others passed through easily. Everything started to change towards the end of the project, after the panicked call he gave me about a special use permit, when a form of zoning torture was enacted on my Amish building team.

First, the zoning officer surprised everyone with needing a door that had been there for weeks to swing outwards. They obliged. Next, exit lights were requested after the electric was completed. Somehow the Amish electrician was able to hardwire the lights in without ruining the wood. Next, I was told I needed three ‘20-pounder fire extinguishers.’ I called up firemen and local extinguisher companies, only to learn I was being ‘messed with’ since that weight title doesn’t exist for extinguishers, or at least not the kind I would have in a barn center.

I was also told by fire inspectors I did not need 3 of these massive extinguishers for my space. Still, I bought 3 to try to get to the finish line. I can barely lift them, by the way. They are ‘10-pounders’ which weigh around 33-pounds when you lift them manually.

And then came the sink. The Amish installed a gorgeous sink and custom-made pine vanity in my bathroom. It was a work of art. The zoning officer came in and failed the sink due to ADA compliance rules. Ok, that’s fine - I understand the vanity makes it hard to roll a wheelchair under the sink. None of us were upset about that. The Amish looked up ADA compliant sinks online, ordered one, and installed a second sink in the bathroom.

When the zoning officer came to visit that day in July 2024, he failed the sink. The Amish spent days installing a second sink for me. They even covered the costs because they felt badly this was happening. That’s the kind of people they are (don’t worry, I always brought them food and drinks, and continue to get them clients using my social media).

The zoning officer marched in the bathroom, in a rush, of course, and immediately failed the sink. I was at a loss for words.

Not only did he fail the sink, he also scolded me, in front of my mother, for missing a planning board meeting. I had asked Susan when the next meeting was and was not briefed on the date, time, or location the week prior. The application form said “pre-committee hearing among committee members.” A little bit about me… I did pretty well with reading comprehension in school.

I don’t know about you, but I perceived that to be a private meeting before the public permit hearing.

Susan giddily emailed me after I missed the meeting to let me know I had missed it.

“You missed the meeting. It was last Wednesday. Please have all materials in for the next meeting, which will be four-weeks from now,” she said in her email. My heart sank. I don’t miss things. In fact, I am that annoying person that is 20-minutes early to everything. That’s me!

I realized I was going to have to play a game with these people, and that I was up against the town board to open my business. I gravely underestimated how nasty it was going to get.

Third time’s the charm

Being the most incredible, life-saving, and relaxed men of God that the Amish are… they calmly bought a THIRD sink for the bathroom after paying an engineer to draft plans that I had to submit, in person, to the zoning officer to approve. I had to print everything out and hand deliver it, by the way, since the zoning officer let me know ‘they don’t spend their money on private matters.’ You know, the $.10 it would cost to print this document.

After taking a few weeks to approve the plans, the officer finally did. A week later, a third sink was in the bathroom. We all held our breath waiting for the zoning officer to visit and give a final sign-off on the structure.

I was not here when he visited that final time, but my mom was. He marched in, exasperated as per usual, and approved the sink. He then told my mother that ‘people’ were sending him pictures and screenshots of my social media, implying I was lying about my business. I am not sure who these ‘people’ are, but what they lied about and sent the town is the most un-American thing you can do. He told my mom without the special use permit, he cannot give a final designation or an occupancy number for the structure.

After all the months of permitting, expensive changes, and being strung along by the town, I was hit with the most bureaucratic ending possible. They essentially told me they were going to withhold my right to do anything on my property until I bowed down before their planning board.

At this point, I had attended my first planning board meeting. I could barely watch as the couple before me arrived with extensive documents for their proposed subdivision, only to be told they didn’t make enough large copies for the board members.

“You need to submit the right amount of copies here for us to review this,” the board said.

“But we were told this was sufficient?” the woman said.

“That is on me, I did not tell them they needed multiple copies of the large map,” Susan shouted from behind the board.

Essentially, a secretarial error and another misleading direction from Susan cost this couple another four-weeks to start their subdivision. They looked sad and defeated.

Right before I took the stand, a man presented his plans to subdivide his property on Saratoga Lake. He had paid thousands of dollars for engineered drawings.

“We are not going to approve this subdivision on Saratoga Lake,” the board held firm.

“But, I bought this land with a zoning caveat that this could be done! It’s why I bought it! And I spent so much time having these plans drafted for you to review…” he yelled.

That was final. The board wasn’t going to budge. And that was the end of that!

I couldn’t help but see the similarities in this scene to shows like Game of Thrones when the poor, lowly peasants come before the King to offer their crops for the year in exchange for their serfdom. It was a dark, dark energy that oozed out of that town hall room. It made me feel choked.

After he left the room, I knew it was my turn. I was last on the docket, and after an hour of sitting through public floggings, I walked up to the podium, drenched in sweat under my dress. The board neither acknowledged my presence nor said any sort of greeting. It was incredibly awkward.

I had printed out an additional handout (I had submitted 5-6 different materials for each board member already) to give to the board. I proceeded to walk towards them with the handout.

“THIS is why we have a RULE here that you need to submit ALL materials before the meeting!” one of the board members screamed out.

I stopped dead in my tracks, shocked by how mad he was. “OK, I can just turn around and walk back then…”

“No, no, give them to us now since you have them here I guess. We haven’t even had time to look at this,” he stammered, rolling his eyes.

It was one of the most uncomfortable moments of my life.

I proceeded to give the House of Green elevator pitch to a board of 7 men over the age of 50, plus Susan and a special guess, the zoning officer. I later learned the zoning officer is not a member of the planning board. In fact, he rarely goes to their meetings. But any time I was on the docket, he was sure to be there to harass me the entire hearing.

I can’t quite describe the level of animosity I was met with. Board members made such out-of-line comments that I was in shock (as was my mom in the audience). I was accused of being an untrustworthy liar with a social media following. One of my favorite comments, from a fellow farmer by the way, was, “You’re going to need to bring some pictures next time of your little parking plan for us to see. For your little dreams you have.”

Another was, “I’d like to see her out there farming those 6.74 acres.”

I don’t need to bore you with comments that small people make when you give them the tiniest bit of power.

After that first permitting hearing, I made 12 different hand-drawn maps to satisfy their requests from me. I typed up another 3-page business report, and I submitted all the materials by their deadline. I spent a solid week making these materials - I was really going to try to win the permitting game.

Dropping out of the permitting race

The hearing date approached and my stomach sank still. Something told me that people who are privy to something as evil as shutting down local businesses aren’t going to just ‘give me’ my permit. I have a pretty good read on people - I could feel the zoning officer’s hatred towards me.

I marched before the podium with my mom and best friend in the audience. Knowing the board wouldn’t engage with the tiniest bit of civility or address me, I said to them, “Good evening everyone. I am back.” It was probably the first time someone ever attempted humor in that room.

The board proceeded to pronounce my name incorrectly as we dove back into business. I did appreciate the board president complimenting the amount of work I had put into my submissions. He was fair this time around… I thought I may emerge unscathed until the issue of parking arose.

“Your parking map shows 24 parking spots using some of your grass. That doesn’t work,” he said.

“Yes, I understand. I can handle about 8 cars on gravel right now, which I know caps me at probably 15 person gatherings. That’s fine with me,” I said.

“That’s not how this works. With a structure that’s 2,600-square-feet, we have to assume you will have it at capacity, which means you need parking for 24 cars, period,” he said.

“Well I don’t have that,” I said.

“Yes, so you need to call up your Amish and have a parking lot put in, and we will give you your special use permit,” he said.

“That would involve me clearing an entire acre and spending at least $40,000 dollars to do that,” I said.

They didn’t care one bit. None of them made eye contact with me. I knew what this meant for my permitting adventure. I had vowed to steward my land with the environment in mind, and to honor the farmland around me. Over my dead body would a parking lot be going on my land when I have plenty of grass space for cars.

I also had heard of other horror stories in the area, when people follow these expensive orders, only to have the board still oppose the permit on the other side of a $40,000 bill.

“Then I would like NOT to be added to next month’s docket,” I said. “Do these parking regulations hold true for farms?”

“Well, farms don’t need a special use permit,” one of the board members let slip.

“It is code violation to have people visiting that barn and sleeping in the loft without this parking completed,” the zoning officer said.

My mom and stepdad had been staying in the barn loft. I needed their help when things escalated with the county electric permitting and the town board problems.

Correct me if I am wrong, but since the FOUNDING of this nation, FAMILIES have run farms together.

Families have slept NEXT to each other to run the farms from sun up until sundown. No town government is going to tell me otherwise.

“Well, I guess that’s where we leave this then. Is there an expiration date on the special use permit process?” I said.

“No, you can come back any time to try to complete it,” the board president said.

“She’s going to try and dump it,” one of the out-of-line board members murmured from behind the president.

I realized I had confused them by backing out of the permitting process in that moment. The board member thought I was going to try and sell the farm. It gave me a chuckle, if only for a moment, that I had finally confused the people who enjoyed my slow public torment over the last three-months.

Learning about that farming permitting tidbit was all I needed. I spent hours over the next few weeks combing over everything there is to know about that loophole. I will tell you all more about it starting in 2025 when I go through the processes. I don’t want to put the cart before the horse and report on something I am in the middle of currently.

I share parts of this story today to encourage anyone reading this to question why we’ve allowed these town officials to leverage this much power over us and our businesses. How have we ceded this much personal liberty and power? We need to get it back! And the only way to do that, I believe, is with what I am doing right now. It’s to go around them, to outsmart them, and to refuse to bend the knee.

The days of getting down on one knee before these glorified bureaucrats needs to be a thing of the past. The future of the country, our businesses, our money, and our environment depends on it. We need to do away with authoritarian boards (that are appointed, by the way - you don’t even get to vote on it) and move towards community-focused forums and direct democracy. No one should get a say with what you do with your property - but I do understand at times, if someone is not checked, it can endanger a neighbor. I am not unreasonable. But these ‘hearings’ need to be done by We The People. It’s time for a change.

I can’t even share some of the other stories I have heard in this area related to the planning board and zoning officer. One story involved a mother and her children having to sleep on the floor of their living room all winter since these people couldn’t be bothered to process the permit in a reasonable amount of time.

I will be writing about this more here, as well as diving into the things we can do, change, and prepare heading into the future.

If you’ve dealt with town boards, I’d love to know about your experience below. From the stories I have been told, we should ALL be enraged at these people and what they’ve been allowed to do for far too long.

Stick around for more articles, as well as a breakdown of how I found my farmland on Zillow later this week.

In case you missed it: last week’s article.