A Fine Conspiracy

Getting your future home inspected is a bit of a muddle, isn't it? I mean, you hire this fellow, that is usually recommended by your realtor, to find all the faults in the building that the realtor would rather not be found.

Although it is you who is in fact paying him, he really gets his continuing business from the realtor. At the same time, the inspector's harshness and keen eye is in line with your needs (find the thick piece of balsa wood they've used as a support beam; point out that the flashing is improperly installed according to Section 849201-a of the Building Code and will result in catastropic failure of your condo/townhouse/house/small grass hut in approximately Specified Amount Of Time Too Soon To Ignore; spot the tell tale signs of a deadly mold or that the previous owners enjoyed the work of Chuck Norris in a non-ironic way), and yet, is at odds with the realtor's needs (get this puppy sold so they can move on to their next deal).

It's a bit like, say, Batman getting his batmobile inspected by say, A Certified Professional Superhero Conveyance Specialist, recommended by the good folks at "Superhero Vehicles, Planes, Biplanes and Solar Powered Jets Inc". I imagine the conversation would go like this:

Batman : "So, that ejector seat, seems a bit finicky."
CPSCS : "Oh no, that's what you want. You don't want it going off at the slightest touch."
Batman : "Like, say, when I really want it to go off, without making a very obvious smashing motion on the ejector button right here, beside the 8-track deck?"
CPSCS : (looking nervously at the salesman) "Er, uh, hey, that's a nice jet engine you got installed over there. A real beaut."
Batman : "Oh, it sure it. I don't think it actually contributes to the speed of the batmobile though."
CPSCS : "The flames are nice though. Can't go wrong with flames."
Batman : "That reminds me, the flamethrower. It--"
CPSCS : "Yeees?"
Batman : "It doesn't actually throw flames. Not an appreciable distance, anyways."
CPSCS : "Well, how far did you wa--"
Batman : "Farther than 2 feet."
CPSCS : "Oh, you don't want that, the flamethrower is really a close quarters weapon. You wanna see his eyeballs boil."
Batman : "Ew. Speaking of disgusting, is it supposed to be leaking this much oil?"
CPSCS : "That's not oil that's, uh," (looking nervously at the salesman, who is staring intently at his "Salesman of the Year 1972" mug) "pure evil. It's leaking pure evil."
Batman : (somewhat impressed, looking at the batmobile with new eyes) "It can do that?"
CPSCS : "Uh, why not."
etc etc etc.

You can see how it's a bit of a incestuous relationship. With the inspector not wanting to tank the deal, and the realtor holding the sharp edge of Never Suggesting To My Client He Call You Again dagger over his head. Which, in addition to being an unwieldy name, is pretty much the only way that an inspector stays in business.

I notice I'm repeating myself. It's an obvious quandary. And it's a quandary that has to do with not only where you live, but where you are going to be putting a entirely unreasonable chunk of your paycheque. A man's home is his castle and all that. A more apt term would be of course "A man's home is his largest amount of debt he'll have to pay over the course of 25+ years and which, in the scheme of things, is really owned by the bank, the damn blood suckers". But that's fairly unlikely to ever happen; in the world of sayings, truth and pithiness rarely intersect.