Bag purchase bill could have unintended effects

Living in California can be a bizarre experience.

What other state has voters charging themselves $.10 per grocery bag for something that used to be free?

I suppose there are people out there who think any fee or tax is a good thing, as long as someone else is paying it. Only in this case, everybody has to pay — except of course, those who are getting supplements at the local church or food bank.

But that’s the irony of this whole thing.

When bags were free, one local senior citizen lunch group I belong to had its members bring hundreds of brown paper sacks every month to help with food distribution for the needy. But the last time I looked, no one in the group had brought anything.

At $.10 a pop multiplied by 1,000 previously used bags, that’s 100 bucks. Multiply that by a year, and we’re talking about $1,200. That buys starving seniors a lot of bagels — or a litter of beagles, if you prefer.

I don’t know what food banks now are going to do to help the indigent haul their supplies away. Perhaps kids can take a day off from school each week and help mom load the old Taurus by some sort of bucket brigade.

Maybe JCPenney can donate bags they will no longer be using. I really don’t have a solution. It’s just one more of those unintended consequences from a combobulated California ballot proposition.

As for the rest of us, I suppose it’s no big deal. Well on second thought, I guess there are a few issues.

The first is remembering to bring the bags into the store — especially for someone who can’t remember what he had for breakfast.

Oh, that’s right, I just remembered: I don’t eat breakfast. I snack on Twinkies until the Meals on Wheels lady comes by.

Also, I’m kind of a neat freak. It seems weird to have old bags scattered around my trunk. There’s one from Walmart. (At least they sell you a pretty hefty plastic one for a dime.) There’s one from Ace Hardware, Raley’s, Walgreen’s and Victoria’s Secret (I got that last one for free).

There’s another one from that famous chicken place in Frankenmuth, Mich. It’s a good bag, but it got a little grease on the bottom. I was afraid my peach wine box might break through, so I repaired it with some aluminum

“I don’t know what food banks now are going to do to help the indigent haul their supplies away. Perhaps kids can take a day off from school each week and help mom load the old Taurus by some sort of bucket brigade. Maybe JCPenney can donate bags they will no longer be using.”

foil and Crazy Glue. That seemed to work pretty well.

A bigger problem is with my pickup truck. There’s no trunk, so I have to store the extra bags under the front passenger floor mat. Some of my friends complain that their knees now touch their chins, but I tell them to suck it up. It’s one of the sacrifices we make for a greener planet.

The people I really feel sorry for are the grocery clerks. How many times a day do they have to ask, “Do you want to buy a bag?” I’ve been told that a number of them are now in therapy, as they are experiencing PTBD (Post-Traumatic Bag Disorder).

They complain of repetitious earworms, playing over and over that same line. Some say they haven’t felt this much anxiety since selling Girl Scout cookies in South Chicago.

Once in a while, I am caught bag-less and end up shelling out 30 or 40 cents toward my already outrageous food costs. OK, that’s not going to change my lifestyle, but it’s just the principle of the thing.

I think the people who voted for this ballot initiative should man up (or woman up) and say: “OK, we blew it. We’ll take full responsibility and refund everybody one dime to cover the partial costs of bags that folks never had to buy in the first place.”

Call it a class action satisfaction. There should be a 1800 number to contact, along with proof of purchase. An old ripped paper bag containing the odor of month-old mangoes and garlic cloves should be sufficient.

But as for me, until things get back to some level of sanity in this state, I’m buying all my groceries in Reno.