Adventures of a Los Angeles Property Appraiser: The Unexpected, the Unbelievable, and the Downright Hilarious
Being a property appraiser in Los Angeles is a lot like being a detective—except instead of solving crimes, I just try to avoid getting mauled by oversized pets and accidentally walking in on half-dressed homeowners. It’s a thrilling profession, really.
The Shower Surprise
Let’s start with the time a homeowner forgot to mention to his wife that I was coming over. Minor detail, right?
So there I was, strolling through the house, doing my professional thing—measuring closets, checking ceilings, pretending I know what “crown molding” is—when suddenly, a woman appears around the corner, fresh out of the shower, wrapped in nothing but pure terror.
She screamed. I screamed. Somewhere in the distance, I’m pretty sure a dog howled.
Meanwhile, her husband, who totally could have prevented this fiasco, comes rushing upstairs, frantically trying to explain why a strange man with a clipboard is standing in their bedroom. I’ll never know what she said to him after I left, but I imagine it started with, “You are NEVER in charge of scheduling again.”
Moral of the story? Always ask, “Hey, is anyone in the shower before I walk through the house?” Life lessons, folks.
Attack of the Wrong Address
Then there was the day I almost became a Rottweiler’s chew toy.
I had an appraisal scheduled on Berry Avenue, but I—being a highly skilled professional—accidentally went to Berry Street. Close enough, right? The homeowner had mentioned having kids, and sure enough, I saw toys in the yard. So, I was just about to waltz through the gate when my inner survival instincts kicked in.
“Maybe I should call first,” I thought.
And right at that moment, from around the corner, comes a 100-pound Rottweiler—ears back, teeth bared, sprinting toward me like I owed him money.
I have never backpedaled so fast in my life.
Turns out, I was definitely at the wrong house. And that Rottweiler? He wasn’t looking to make friends. If I had stepped inside that gate, this story might have ended with “And that’s why I now work in accounting.”
The Great Doghouse Debate
Of course, the real fun comes when homeowners try to convince me that literally anything should count as “additional square footage.”
One guy proudly showed me a doghouse. Not just any doghouse—this thing had a full roof, siding, and probably better insulation than my first apartment.
“The doghouse doesn’t count,” I told him.
“But it’s really nice,” he said.
“Still doesn’t count.”
“…But it’s 40 square feet!”
I half-expected him to start listing amenities—“It’s got hardwood floors! It’s open concept! The HOA fees are very reasonable!”—but I had to break the news: No matter how impressive the canine condo, it still doesn’t count toward the home’s square footage.
Lessons from the Field
Between unexpected nudity, near-death experiences, and pet-related real estate negotiations, being a property appraiser is never boring. I’ve learned a few key lessons:
- Always confirm that no one is showering before you start wandering through a house.
- Double-check the street name before entering a yard (especially if large, angry dogs live there).
- No matter how fancy it is, a doghouse does not count as a guesthouse.
So, if you ever think your job is unpredictable, just remember—some of us are out here dodging Rottweilers and avoiding accidental break-ins, all in the name of property value.
And yes, it’s all true.
Let me know if you’d like any tweaks!