The Department of Homeland Security Came to My House

My phone rang on Monday morning, and, as it was a number I did not recognize, I let it go to voicemail. I checked the voicemail later that afternoon when my student teacher was teaching. Here's a transcript of that voicemail with my own thoughts included in italics:

"Hi (he mispronounced my name horribly, but in a recognizable manner), this is so and so. I work for the Department of Homeland Security. WHAT? OHMYGOD What did I do? OH MY GOD HOLY CRAP I'm in trouble. We need to come in to interview you. We are doing a background check on someone you probably know. WHAT? No I don't know anyone Homeland Security would be checking up on! No. Big mistake. Oh my god. It says here you've known this person since 1997. WHAT? No! No one I have known that long needs to be dealing with Homeland Security. Oh my god. Her name is ** and I don't know how to pronounce this last name but it looks like Lacks uh goo. (At this point I did actually laugh out loud, because I know how much Liz loves her last name being butchered.) Oh Bartholomew was applying for that government position a couple of months ago and told me she would need verification of living situations. Duh. Wow, Lou. Nice freakout. If you could just give me a call back at your earliest convenience, my number is...


Anyway, I hang up and call the guy back; we talk briefly about how I know Bartholomew and set up an interview for the next morning. Cue snow. In fact, we haven't had school since Monday. He called me back this morning and just came by the house to conduct his interview.

I was asked to verify a bunch of things I didn't quite remember, like Bartholomew working in the Asheville Mall and living in a house on Edgewood. I didn't remember her working in the mall at all until the guy said it was at The Children's Place and I vaguely recalled that. When he said "Edgewood," I said "The apartments near campus?" He said no and described it as a house that had been split into apartments and that triggered a memory and I said this, appropriateness apparently no matter to me:

"Oh I remember that, but not because I ever visited her there. She told me once she was living in a house with a professor from UNCA" Yes, he says and starts flipping through his notes to find his name. "His name was Seamus McNerney. Seamus Patrick McNerney, born on St. Patrick's Day actually." Sounds like a good Irishman. Was he a good professor? I pause because McNerney was one of my favorite professors, but not for very good reasons. Like any good Irishman, he drank whiskey out of his coffee mug during every class. He also gave me an A when I did not deserve it. I go with "Yeah I really liked him." Is he still at UNCA? I pause again because I'm not sure if looking up McNerney to ask about Bartholomew is a good idea. I went with complete honesty: "Actually, I have no idea (I don't.) But I heard he was really sick a few years ago (I did, from Liz. Apparently, the alcohol was slowly killing him)." I guess this was good enough information since someone else, possibly Liz, had mentioned McNerney and me remembering that he was there in that house without him prompting probably verifies that she did in fact live there, which I think was the whole point.

He never asked me about when we actually lived together except to ask if there were any drug, alcohol, or financial problems. I laughed. Probably also not appropriate. Liz did not enjoy my drinking habits at all when we lived together. She got over it eventually, but I was definitely the "bad" roommate.

Everything else was stuff basically along the lines of "Do you think that this person will betray her country?" It actually felt a little contrived, but that's probably because I don't really think about things like betraying your country. I guess I've never dealt with the government or anyone from the government that closely so it was kind of intimidating. He even showed me his badge when he came in.

One thing that did bother me a little is that he asked about foreign travel, and how much she had done and where. It seemed to be a matter of interest in "foreign governments." Scary. If I ever apply for a government position, they will probably not accept me solely based on the fact that I've been to France on four separate occasions, that my sister lived there, that I studied in England, have taken students to Germany, Italy, and Switzerland, backpacked in Costa Rica, that I have an uncle in Holland, that I'm taking more students to England, Wales, and Ireland, that I have plans to go to as many places as possible in my lifetime, especially on summers when there is a World Cup, and that my family is from California, because, let's admit it, California is kind of like a foreign country (all those damned hippies and Mexicans.) My sole saving grace would be that my grandfather was in the Air Force (Go America!) and that he instilled in me a love of seeing foreign places and cultures at a young age, I just never had the desire to fight for my country to do it.

The worst part was him actually coming to the house. I had to run around the house hiding all my questionable literary material and marijuana.

KIDDING!