I’ve run a factory. I’ve weathered tariffs. I’ve navigated a pandemic, served on R.I. Commerce Corp. and watched millions of dollars invested in the state, trained welders, hired engineers, paid overtime, and lost sleep over supply chains that span the globe and a pothole that never seems to get filled on Route 1. But until this week, I had never walked into a committee hearing at the Statehouse to testify on a bill.
And let me tell you – there’s nothing quite like it.
There I was, suited up and ready to speak my piece on House Bill 6206, the Beverage Container Recycling Act. A mouthful of a title for what promises to be a politically sharp-edged, economically impactful and environmentally noble-sounding piece of legislation.
The room was packed. Microphones hot. Clocks ticking. And I had … two minutes.
Two minutes to explain how this bill, as written, might upend the balance we’ve worked so hard to strike in Rhode Island – between sustainability and solvency, between industry and innovation, between noble ideas and boots-on-the-ground execution.
I had prepared a speech. A thoughtful, human-centered appeal. I spoke about jobs, about my pride in our state’s manufacturing base, about the companies such as Toray Plastics (America) Inc., Teknor Apex Co., and Cooley Inc. that have chosen Rhode Island – not because it’s the easiest or cheapest place to do business, but because we promised partnership, predictability and a mutual commitment to the long game.
But what I didn’t bring – and should have – was a truckload of hard data. A map of unintended consequences. A red pen to mark up the holes in the bill’s modeling. Because the folks who spoke before me? They weren’t just concerned citizens or policy wonks. They were, in some cases, selling something. The system, it turns out, isn’t just about public interest; it’s also about market share.
One of my own state representatives, Carrol Hagan McEntee, asked in visible frustration why people hadn’t weighed in during the public comment window. My answer was simple, and true; most business owners are underwater, still clawing back from COVID-19, battling inflation, dealing with workforce shortages and energy spikes, and regulatory whiplash. We didn’t ignore the bill. We just couldn’t see the fire until it hit the tree line.
But here’s the kicker: None of that is a reason to sit this out. In fact, it’s the very reason to show up.
Yes, I felt like I brought a harmonica to a brass band. Yes, I needed more time, more facts, more firepower. But I also brought something else: a genuine desire to help shape good policy. To remind the people inside the marble dome that businesses, when healthy, help fund schools, clean up rivers and create the very future these bills are meant to protect.
The truth is, Rhode Island loves jobs. We just seem to have a complicated relationship with employers.
What I learned in that hearing room is that legislation is not an idea, it’s an instrument. It has weight. Balance. And if it’s forged without the hands of those who live with its consequences, it bends badly.
So here’s my call to action, not just to fellow business leaders but to any Rhode Islander who’s ever grumbled about a law that didn’t make sense: Show up. Testify. Write. Email. Walk those halls.
Be respectful. Be brief. But be there.
Because if you’re not in the room, someone else is shaping your future. And they just might be selling it, too.
Karl Wadensten is CEO and president of VIBCO Inc. in Richmond and a board member at R.I. Commerce Corp.
