Lessons from the Garbage Can

My wife Katie and I recently moved to San Francisco.  We're now entering our 2nd week as residents of the city, and it's been an easy transition... with one exception.  San Francisco has some of the most amazing residential sanitation rules one could conceive.  On the threat of a ticket for erroneously sorting our detritus, we've been forced to learn the difference between what is recyclable, compostable and merely trash destined for a landfill.  We now sort items from each of these categories into separate garbage bins in our apartment, then placing them in separate cans for weekly collection.  We actually had to print the city's rules and tape them to our trash bins in order to keep the process working.

Initially, I was annoyed that our waste required so much of my attention, but gradually my attitude has changed.  I've been surprised that more of my trash can be reused than I originally thought.  However, I also generate a lot of stuff that I thought could be recycled, but can't.  For instance, Katie and I are receiving a few wedding presents these days; they are always packed in tons of Styrofoam.  San Francisco recycling won't touch the stuff.  They also won't take plastic bags, which are EVERYWHERE.  Good luck getting through the day without someone handing you a plastic bag.

I'm sure this was the intention of those who drafted the law, but dealing with the stuff that I think should be recycled, but can't, is both frustrating and depressing.  It's forced me to really think about what I generate and where it goes.  This is certainly an interesting case where forced behavior modification has resulted in increase awareness and a change in perception.  I've never been a big fan of legislative interference in people's lives, but this illustrates it can be a powerful tool if used correctly.