The cleaner, she looks at me with disbelief, and indicates, in heavily Chinese-accented English, that this thing is not done.
My Plan B is to bag them up and drop 'em off at one or more local laundromats. I well recall that in my laundromat days (1970-1998) hangers were much coveted.
But I'd rather the damned curbside recycler take them. Apparently it varies from one jurisdiction to the next. A few months ago our waste pickup switched from requiring recycling to be segregated into individual bins (glass+plastic+metal; paper) to a one-size-fits-all gigantic wheeled container. This appears to have been intended to cut the freelance scavengers, with whom, as you might imagine, Oakland is abundantly endowed, off at the knees, and it does appear to have discouraged them. Actually, I never minded the freelancers, except that they tended to be a tad sloppy in retrieving bottles from the bins, and frequently left shards of glass on the sidewalk when their alcoholic fingers lost their purchase.
cordially,