FROM THE file marked "Your Efficient City Government At Work" comes the tale of Peter Levinson, president of United Nations Travel, at 130 Chestnut St.
While city bloodhounds have allowed $1 billion in forfeited bail to evaporate, and hundreds of millions in taxes went uncollected, they pounced on Levinson, 71, for a $25 violation for an "improper container" for trash. He was written up on Dec. 15, 1997.
That's not a misprint: He was written up thirteen years ago, but the citation arrived last month.
Levinson says that he never received notice of that violation. Back then, trash was collected at night, and if the ticket was written and left for him, he never got it. In subsequent years, he thinks he might have gotten one ticket, which he promptly paid.
Last month, the owner of 130 Chestnut got a notice from the city Department of Finance of a $25 fine. The landlord turned it over to Levinson, the tenant, who called the number at the Department of Finance on July 13 and talked to a clerk. Levinson wanted some details about why he was ticketed, what the offense was, and, gee, maybe why it took thirteen years for the ticket to reach him.
The clerk said that a supervisor would call to talk to him about the matter. (Names withheld to protect the guilty.)
Instead of a call, Levinson got a delinquency notice, mailed out July 30: "Be advised that a previous notice remains unanswered and a penalty of $25 has been imposed."
That's an "abomination," Levinson said, because he had "answered" the notice with a phone call to Finance, and he had a confirmation number.
"It took 13 years for the first notice to come, 13 days for the second," Levinson grumped.
What is going on: a ticket from 13 years ago and a "penalty" for not responding, when in fact he had?
I called Paula Weiss, executive director of the Tax Review Board, into whose lap this problem falls like an overripe peach. When I told her the ticket-issue date she asked me to repeat it, to make sure she heard it right.
"That is a really long time," she said.
She seemed perturbed by that, but even more that Levinson hadn't received a callback in more than two weeks. People may not like what the department has to say about any violation, she said, "but certainly they are entitled to a quick response."
Amen, sister.
As to how a 13-year-old ticket suddenly materialized, Weiss said that it came in for processing without the proper identification information in 1997, and somehow fell between the cracks.
Recently, in "cleaning up some backlog," Weiss explained, a computer pulled it up, merged it with something and spit out a letter.
As Weiss described it as a "ridiculous consequence of computer logic," I remembered the HAL 9000 computer going rogue in "2001: A Space Odyssey."
"I am putting myself to the fullest possible use, which is all I think that any conscious entity can ever hope to do," says HAL. The Tax Review Board computer did the same thing, sending the notice to the right party after human error had delayed it for 13 years.
In any event, Levinson's call "should have triggered a review and someone should have called him back," Weiss said. Not all mistakes can be avoided, she said, but courtesy is mandatory.
After learning of the botch, both the supervisor - who was never given the message by the clerk - and Weiss called Levinson to apologize.
Weiss dismissed Levinson's 13-year-old ticket as being "too old" for him to properly defend himself.
It's possible that a few more oldies but baddies are kicking around the system. Weiss told me that she's having techies review the computer logic to weed them out.
If you get a ticket written before the millennium, phone it in. Tell them HAL sent you.
While city bloodhounds have allowed $1 billion in forfeited bail to evaporate, and hundreds of millions in taxes went uncollected, they pounced on Levinson, 71, for a $25 violation for an "improper container" for trash. He was written up on Dec. 15, 1997.
That's not a misprint: He was written up thirteen years ago, but the citation arrived last month.
Levinson says that he never received notice of that violation. Back then, trash was collected at night, and if the ticket was written and left for him, he never got it. In subsequent years, he thinks he might have gotten one ticket, which he promptly paid.
Last month, the owner of 130 Chestnut got a notice from the city Department of Finance of a $25 fine. The landlord turned it over to Levinson, the tenant, who called the number at the Department of Finance on July 13 and talked to a clerk. Levinson wanted some details about why he was ticketed, what the offense was, and, gee, maybe why it took thirteen years for the ticket to reach him.
The clerk said that a supervisor would call to talk to him about the matter. (Names withheld to protect the guilty.)
Instead of a call, Levinson got a delinquency notice, mailed out July 30: "Be advised that a previous notice remains unanswered and a penalty of $25 has been imposed."
That's an "abomination," Levinson said, because he had "answered" the notice with a phone call to Finance, and he had a confirmation number.
"It took 13 years for the first notice to come, 13 days for the second," Levinson grumped.
What is going on: a ticket from 13 years ago and a "penalty" for not responding, when in fact he had?
I called Paula Weiss, executive director of the Tax Review Board, into whose lap this problem falls like an overripe peach. When I told her the ticket-issue date she asked me to repeat it, to make sure she heard it right.
"That is a really long time," she said.
She seemed perturbed by that, but even more that Levinson hadn't received a callback in more than two weeks. People may not like what the department has to say about any violation, she said, "but certainly they are entitled to a quick response."
Amen, sister.
As to how a 13-year-old ticket suddenly materialized, Weiss said that it came in for processing without the proper identification information in 1997, and somehow fell between the cracks.
Recently, in "cleaning up some backlog," Weiss explained, a computer pulled it up, merged it with something and spit out a letter.
As Weiss described it as a "ridiculous consequence of computer logic," I remembered the HAL 9000 computer going rogue in "2001: A Space Odyssey."
"I am putting myself to the fullest possible use, which is all I think that any conscious entity can ever hope to do," says HAL. The Tax Review Board computer did the same thing, sending the notice to the right party after human error had delayed it for 13 years.
In any event, Levinson's call "should have triggered a review and someone should have called him back," Weiss said. Not all mistakes can be avoided, she said, but courtesy is mandatory.
After learning of the botch, both the supervisor - who was never given the message by the clerk - and Weiss called Levinson to apologize.
Weiss dismissed Levinson's 13-year-old ticket as being "too old" for him to properly defend himself.
It's possible that a few more oldies but baddies are kicking around the system. Weiss told me that she's having techies review the computer logic to weed them out.
If you get a ticket written before the millennium, phone it in. Tell them HAL sent you.
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