First of all, until I met a “zoning officer,” I didn’t even know what one was. To be frank, despite the fact that I am Dave, I am still unaware if I met one. Thus my personal story begins. It was 8:00 in the morning and I had just returned home from my third-ish shift job. I heard a knock at the door. Confused, I answered the door. I wouldn’t typically answer the door, as it is my parent’s house and it would be a rarity for anyone to come there for me, but, alas, I answered anyway. I opened the door to a short-haired (nearly bald) man with a blank T-shirt and jeans who immediately started barking in my face. He didn’t actually bark, to be honest, but he might as well have.
Local government bullies: the zoning gestapo