The Inspection

 

I failed the Office Inspection the other day. You see as writer and online college professor who has a home office, I must maintain professional habits and standards. To assist in this effort, I am subjected to random inspections, and the last one, indeed a surprise, happened the other day.

 

“Wow,” I said. “This is quite a surprise.”

 

The inspector, an older female of Irish descent, stood at the office entrance. “I can’t even get in.” She held a clipboard.

 

“Of course you can.” I honestly didn’t know why she complained about that. I mean all you had to do was slide in between the boxes on the floor, twist sideways to squeeze between the table and the bookshelf, and bingo, you're there. There in the office. You can then carefully negotiate your way from there to any place you want, such as to the window, or some other geographical location. But not the file cabinet. I wouldn't try to make it over there if I were you.

 

"This is a mess," she said.

 

I thought that a bit harsh, though the office all of a sudden did remind me of our daughter's old bedroom.

 

"You know,” she marked something on the clipboard, “this reminds me of our daughter's old bedroom."

 

"No it doesn't." Talk about a low blow. "I mean you can enter this room. All you have to do is slide in between the boxes, twist sideways to squeeze—”

 

“Is there even a desk in here?” she asked.

 

I though she was joking.

 

“I just asked if there’s a desk?”

 

“Of course,” I said.

 

“Where?”

 

“It’s under everything,”

 

She glared. I probably shouldn't have said that. And I thought the Irish had a sense of humor.

 

"And there's a chair?" She wrote something on the clipboard.

 

"Of course."

 

"Where?"

 

"What do you mean where? It's behind the desk. Where do you think it is?"

 

"And what do you see when you sit at this chair that nobody can see?"

 

What kind of question was that? "I can see everything. I don't become blind when I sit at the desk."

 

"Like what? Tell me all that you see when you sit at your desk."

 

"Well the ceiling fan to start. And of course the window. At least the top of it."

 

"And those pictures on the wall?"

 

"Of course. You just might have to move some stuff around first.” I probably shouldn't have said that either.

 

She made another notation on the clipboard.

 

Yeah, the inspection went downhill from there. And fast. There's no point in relating the rest of it. Let's just say I failed the Office Inspection the other day, and leave it at that.