It's always awesome to open the front door to a badge in the face.
A real life federal inspector thing type dude just knocked on my door. The first thing I saw was his badge. Because it was already at face level just waiting for me to see it first. And I got too nervous to actually remember which real life inspector-y agency whatever he was really from.
At first I didn't let the guy come in because I feel so much safer conversing through our ratty screen door that can't even keep bugs out.
But then he told me he was doing a background check on one of the guys who lived here before we moved in and he needed our landlord's phone number. And so I had to call Husband to get the phone number, because information like that is never handy when armed federal agents are in your house. (Do you think he had a concealed weapon? I didn't even think about that UNTIL JUST NOW.)
I had to call Husband twice, because he never answers when I call. And we have this "if it's an emergency call twice" system we've been doing for years, so most of the time I just call him over and over until he finally picks up because HELLO, it's obviously an emergency or I would just leave him alone. (Like the time he needed to speed over from work to kill a wasp in our living room - TOTAL EMERGENCY, and I think I had to call about 7 times in a row.)
So anyways, I got the phone number and gave it to him, and then I got all unflustered for one second and bravely asked what this was all for really. I was hoping that it was because the guy had murdered someone in our house and that's why our kitchen is (possibly but probably not) haunted and we'd have to go through seances and some high speed chases to help figure it out. But it wasn't even close to that. Apparently the previous tenant is some kind of super Navy man and needed a top secret clearance for a mission and so they had to do a super detailed background check for the past 5 years of his life.
It's definitely not as cool, but at least he used the words "top secret".
And then when the Secret Service FBI agent for Area 51 (or whatever his title was) left I called Husband again (a couple times) so I could tell him why I needed the phone number. And I thought he'd be all excited about my murder ghost theory turned top secret Navy mission. But instead he chewed me out for opening the door for just "some random man".
So then I said, "He had a big SHINY badge - seemed safe to me."
And he said, "People can make fake badges, Melissa! I bet he was just scouting out the house to see what he can steal later!!"
And I said, "This isn't the movie Home Alone. He was just doing a background check, you know, TOP SECRET stuff."
And he said, "Your story sounds fishy to me."
And I said, "What's so fishy about having a federal inspector area 51 Navy check badge guy knock on the door?"
And then he yelled at me more about conspiracy theories and how he's going to remind me how right he is when we get robbed and possibly murdered in our sleep."
And then I said, "GOOD. BYE. poophead." And hung up.
I had to say poophead because I'm trying not to call him the really bad names that I think in my head.
The next time the secret service CSI murder police knock on my door I'm not even going to tell Husband, I'm just going to go on that high speed chase.
A real life federal inspector thing type dude just knocked on my door. The first thing I saw was his badge. Because it was already at face level just waiting for me to see it first. And I got too nervous to actually remember which real life inspector-y agency whatever he was really from.
At first I didn't let the guy come in because I feel so much safer conversing through our ratty screen door that can't even keep bugs out.
But then he told me he was doing a background check on one of the guys who lived here before we moved in and he needed our landlord's phone number. And so I had to call Husband to get the phone number, because information like that is never handy when armed federal agents are in your house. (Do you think he had a concealed weapon? I didn't even think about that UNTIL JUST NOW.)
I had to call Husband twice, because he never answers when I call. And we have this "if it's an emergency call twice" system we've been doing for years, so most of the time I just call him over and over until he finally picks up because HELLO, it's obviously an emergency or I would just leave him alone. (Like the time he needed to speed over from work to kill a wasp in our living room - TOTAL EMERGENCY, and I think I had to call about 7 times in a row.)
So anyways, I got the phone number and gave it to him, and then I got all unflustered for one second and bravely asked what this was all for really. I was hoping that it was because the guy had murdered someone in our house and that's why our kitchen is (possibly but probably not) haunted and we'd have to go through seances and some high speed chases to help figure it out. But it wasn't even close to that. Apparently the previous tenant is some kind of super Navy man and needed a top secret clearance for a mission and so they had to do a super detailed background check for the past 5 years of his life.
It's definitely not as cool, but at least he used the words "top secret".
And then when the Secret Service FBI agent for Area 51 (or whatever his title was) left I called Husband again (a couple times) so I could tell him why I needed the phone number. And I thought he'd be all excited about my murder ghost theory turned top secret Navy mission. But instead he chewed me out for opening the door for just "some random man".
So then I said, "He had a big SHINY badge - seemed safe to me."
And he said, "People can make fake badges, Melissa! I bet he was just scouting out the house to see what he can steal later!!"
And I said, "This isn't the movie Home Alone. He was just doing a background check, you know, TOP SECRET stuff."
And he said, "Your story sounds fishy to me."
And I said, "What's so fishy about having a federal inspector area 51 Navy check badge guy knock on the door?"
And then he yelled at me more about conspiracy theories and how he's going to remind me how right he is when we get robbed and possibly murdered in our sleep."
And then I said, "GOOD. BYE. poophead." And hung up.
I had to say poophead because I'm trying not to call him the really bad names that I think in my head.
The next time the secret service CSI murder police knock on my door I'm not even going to tell Husband, I'm just going to go on that high speed chase.
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