The last 3 years have been a blur.    I worked  doing " Field Services". Independent contractor work for  what ended up being several companies.

For occupancy inspections, once a month a large drop of orders populates into a computer program. Depending on your territory, it could be 300...it could be 1000. I had a rural territory, so it was 300. Deadlines vary, but they are usually due in a week. I covered 20-30 counties. You get paid by the job, and if it's late or not done as ordered, you don't get paid or they charge you. Car troubles, illness or the weather are just excuses.  There can also be rush work come in at any moment.  

You could be delivering a letter from a bank,a car lender, doing a drive by inspection, a walk thru on vacant properties. I have also done merchant verifications and mystery shops for various lenders, drive by appraisals,and various quality control inspections for Hud and Fannie Mae REOs to insure they have been cleaned to specifications.

Pictures were required to be taken and uploaded for every job, as well as a laundry list of other tasks, per order. Some jobs just required 1 picture to prove I was there, others require House, street sign, street view, address, all sides of home, all rooms, 2 of all rooms, plus all damages and sign in sheets and signs outside.  I took anywhere from 1-200 pictures per inspection.

What did I get out of this work?   Enough money to survive on while I was doing the work (that's better than I was doing) and enough belief in myself that everything else shouldnt be a problem anymore.   

Keep in mind, Every person I dealt with on this job may have been going through the worst day of their life.   I dressed well, carried a clipboard and was courteous to everyone I met.    Widows that were losing there homes. Unemployed people, some angry-some sad.   Most everyone treated me as well or better than I treated them.
 There's the story of the man that walked a 1/4 of a mile down to the farms gate ,, I told him what I was there for.. and he walked back up to the house and back to the gate with a shovel.  He then informed me that the unlocked gate was locked as he positioned himself so the shovel was on his shoulder --about my head level.  His prison tattoo made him believable , as did the fact that his companion was now in my car with their dogs  while my wife pretended she had cell service.  If she hadn't tried the fake phone call , you all probably would have been spared from these stories.

I said, ok. Gates locked....and drove away quickly.  

What have I got out of this job?   A rash.  I've been in moldy houses (ever see bubbles of mold pulse?)....I've been sent to a house that just wasn't there anymore. (that was odd.).   I was told once by an angry mortgagor that the reason he has nine dogs is because bullets don't go around corners. I have fallen through a deck.     Everyday seemed to have a special little memory.