Oh No!

By now I think that everyone who reads my blogs knows what I do for a living. Officially I am a monitor for the federal government’s weatherization program working in a grant funded position. Unofficially I am an inspector hired by The University of Georgia to oversee the work done by community action agencies. Before I go any further let me just say no, I can’t get you any free football game tickets, but I do like both the job and the employer. Getting to talk to the clients that have had their homes weatherized has been a lot of fun too. I’ve met some genuine southern characters.
Honestly I am a re-inspector. The work has already been inspected, so I inspect the inspectors. That is a mouthful, I know, but it’s to insure that there is no impropriety with our tax dollars. Sometimes I get to see some pretty rough stuff in some neighborhoods that, let’s just say, I wouldn’t want to be in after the sun goes down. But for the most part it goes smoothly. I have been trained on how to handle people that approach me, and I’m a diligent truck locker. I never go alone and I usually follow an inspector (my escort) from one of the agencies in my personal vehicle; safety in numbers. Sounds like we’ve got it all figured out, huh? Well something happened to me today that you just can’t train for.
We left a home in Houston County and headed for downtown Macon. I don’t care much for the east side of that town, but quite a bit of work is done in that area so I’m there frequently. We pulled into the driveway that was shared with two side by side houses and I began to look around. It was pretty much what I expected, so I grabbed my camera and stepped out of the truck. I usually let the guy from the agency go in first because he already knows the homeowner, but as I got out and walked around the home, he got back in his truck to let a car, he had blocked in, out of the drive. When I came back to the front of the house my escort was nowhere in sight, so I spoke to an older man that was sitting on the front porch as I walked in the front door.
It was pretty dark inside the home, but I could see three people sitting on the couch as I walked toward the kitchen. I said hello and they responded in kind. When I reached the kitchen there was an older woman sitting at the table. I spoke to her as well and started taking pictures of the appliances. I opened the cabinets and looked in the stove. I pulled the clothes dryer out slightly and took a picture of the exhaust pipe. As I went through the motions of my routine inspection, the lady sitting at the table asked me why I was taking pictures. I explained to her why I was there and what else I would have to do before I left. “Humph” was all she said. I apologized again as I ran another person out of the bathroom! How many people were in this home? After twenty minutes of taking pictures and opening cabinet doors I walked out back to look at the rear of the home. One of the ladies went with me because there were three pitbulls back there, and while I could tell that at least two were on chains, I didn’t want to take a chance. I hated to ask her, but I thought it was the least she could do after all of the work that had been done on her home.
She was in the middle of an apology for how much stuff she had stacked on the back porch when my cellphone rang . It was my escort, but why was he calling me? “Where are you he asked?” as the homeowner stopped her speech in mid-sentence. I thought this was a stupid question, but I told him I was in the back yard. He walked around the home at this point and stood there looking at me with a big smile on his face. “I was wondering where you were.” He almost laughed. “But I would have never dreamed you were in the next door neighbor’s house!”