The Khaki Klad Army of the City of Orange Strikes Again

Posted: August 30, 2017 in Uncategorized

A few weeks ago, a savvy City of Orange water meter reader in shorts knocked on our door and told us that our meter was reading crazy high and currently spinning and did we have water running????

We did not.  The pipe in the sole piece of concrete at our house had burst and was crazy leaking a lake under the house.  We would not have known, then, if not for the meter reader.  Plumbers came. Restoration Services came. The plumber capped the line, cutting water from our house with a “most people just move into a hotel” before running off- clearly cognizant of the storm to come when I found out we had no water, save the front garden hose. Resoration Services left huge fans- moving the same amount of air required to lift a B52 off the ground- to remove the moisture from under the house. Those things made a gods-awful racket.  But, we needed to dry under the house so we could fix the plumbing.

I expect it probably took less than 24 hours before the Evil Ass Neighbors called the City to complain.  Never mind that they’d been busily redoing their front porch the week before, on a freaking Saturday BEFORE 7AM! She may not wear pink suits or like cats (or anything really-she’s that miserable), but Professor Umbridge had nothing on the EAN (Evil Ass Neighbor) dame. We assume the City was likely busy and took a while to get to the complaint.  The khaki wearing jackanape did not show up until the afternoon the fans had been carted away.  There was a complaint! 

About, uh, the vegetation.

I merely looked at him.  He was a clean shaven, khaki clad uptight jackass with his City ID crammed up to a dog snout and his City car, illegally parked, blocking handicap access to the sidewalk. The dogs barked. They did not like him. ‘The vegetation is spilling onto the sidewalk and needs to be cleaned up.’  I continued to examine his khaki klad self.  The dogs clearly wanted to eat him.  He just as clearly was not sure where I stood on that topic.  ‘It needs to be cleaned up’, he said, writing on a clipboard. ‘And what is with the hose going into the window on the side?’

I explained, not in a particularly charitable voice, that we’d had a pipe burst and there had been a restoration service out to remove the water from under the house and the water was capped by our plumber an,d we didn’t have water, at present, until resoration was done and the plumber came back out.  And we’d already talked to the City about our insurance paying the crazy high water bills. He nodded officiously said something particularly obnoxious about permits and I gave him the-I don’t have effing indoor plumbing you ignoramus ass hat and I don’t give a fuck about your permit- look.  He started to look vaguely green.  

‘And that chair. The City allows lawn furniture…’ Bark! Bark! Bark!  I honestly have no idea what sort of boring twaddle was dripping from his mouth at that moment. But, he added that we had to get rid of the green chair that had been on our porch for a decade. I told him so and he said, ‘yes, it looks like it’. Apparently, khaki klad jackanape City employees are required to be insulting, as well as rude and condescending.

Bark!  At that point, he started in about the front yard again.  ‘It needs to have vegetation’. As he’d just said, not five minutes before that the vegetation had to go, I asked for clarification.  I mean, seriously.  Either you want vegetation or you don’t.  You can’t write a citation to someone for vegetation and in the same breath claim that there needs to be vegetation.  WTF????  There was some vague babbling about grass, as he’s evidently never seen bark used as ground cover, to which I said, forcefully, “we are NOT putting in anything that has to be watered!!!” See California drought, KKJ (khaki klad jackanape)… There was some eye bugging and he said, ‘well, you have berries and that is okay’. We both looked at the single stalk of blackberries jutting out of the ground at the same angle as an excited teenage boy looking at his first nude magazine.  ‘Berries?’ I looked at the single stalk of berries wondering if he was hallucinating. I swear at this point he was rambling nearly incoherently. There was more carrying on about the permit for the plumbing.  Because when we have the house plumbed with the garden hose, the first thing we care about is a piece of paper issued by twerps like him allowing us to FIX the busted plumbing. Maybe he was one of those Edgar bugs-like from Men in Black? He sure as fuck wasn’t getting sugar water from me.

Bark! Bark! ‘We have grapes and everything growing there is food.’ He looked at the most virulent bed and muttered something (Bark, bark bark) about it spilling over the property line. And into the wrecked, mostly abandoned car there, which not being the Nazi snitch the Ass Neighbors are, I did not point out. Although, its clearly not in use, with parts hanging off and covered in cobwebs.  Stupid thing showed up about two months ago and there it sits.

Eventually, he scuttled off to his illegally and assholedly parked car- seriously, who blocks handicap access?-and left. Good effing riddance.  KKJ could learn some things from that meter reader. Starting with what sort of pants to wear.

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