A guy walks into City Hall …

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Always interested in the mechanics of government, I'm one of the rare people who like to go in person to public offices for license tabs, tax documents and the like.

In an odd sort of way, it connects me not just to my government but to fellow citizens, bonding over universal frustration with bureaucracy and proposing better ways the system could run, as people have been doing since the beginning of organized civic authority. I've had some good discussions with strangers over the years on a variety of topics, from urban planning to swapping fish stories while waiting in line for the annual license.

I recently needed to submit a form to the Minneapolis Assessor's Office. As I like to do with documents of this nature, I wanted to deliver it in person and perhaps chat with someone there to ensure that it was completed correctly, or maybe gain some insight into nuances in the rules. So on a warm summer day I biked down to the City Hall to conduct some civic business in Room 100.

As I entered on the 5th Street side, by the statue of former Mayor Hubert Humphrey, it was quickly apparent that things had changed since I was last there. There was hardly the bustle I was accustomed to. The halls were empty, and I saw my first person only after following the signs to report to the security receptionist on the other side of the building.

There I learned that not only was there no one in the Assessor's Office who could talk to me, there wasn't even an office. If I wanted to submit my form, I would need to walk down the street to another building, where I would find a drop box. So off to 2nd Avenue to a place called the City of Lakes Building, where I would indeed find the drop box, but — again — not a soul in sight.

I realize, of course, that times have changed. Gone, it seems, are the days when citizens felt they could just walk into a government office for a face-to-face with a worker, like the time when — on a whim as a student at the University of Minnesota — I walked into City Hall because I had something I wanted to tell then-Mayor Don Fraser. Lo and behold, he was in his office, and though I had no appointment and he had no idea who I was, he welcomed me in and listened to what I had to say. Now I can't hand a form to the clerk at the City Assessor's Office.

We've lost a lot in recent years, and I fear that decreased personal contact with public servants is more consequential than we know. Maybe I'm out of touch — budget restraints, security issues and work-from-home policies probably mean that it makes sense. But I can't help thinking that the last thing we need during these nervous times is the further isolation of citizens from government.