Joel Kurtinitis

Iowa View columnist

Jocelyn Fry has a chipped countertop.

Not split, loose, or missing, mind you — just chipped.

According to Des Moines city inspectors, though, that quarter-sized chip constitutes a hazard that makes her home of six years unlivable.

In a recent Facebook post, the mother of eight wondered whether the mandated repairs would result in higher rent for her family — and if that higher rent will price them out entirely.

It’s a classic case of nanny-state government hurting the folks they’re trying to help.

Before shifting careers, I built homes in the Des Moines area for nearly 10 years, building and remodeling homes in Waukee, Granger, Johnston, and Grimes … but never in Des Moines proper. Unbeknownst to many a city bureaucrat, traditional wisdom for many small construction companies in the greater Des Moines area is that you only take jobs outside the city limits — where the permit and inspections departments won’t eat you alive.

I didn’t listen, and city inspectors were the leading cause of stress in my life for the next five years, costing me thousands in fines, fees and destruction of property for infractions like leaving some windows cracked for a weekend so dust could air out.

According to Des Moines inspectors, this constituted an “abandoned” property being left accessible, and therefore a public hazard.

I returned Monday to find the city had boarded over and destroyed my brand new vinyl windows, and charged me hundreds of dollars for the courtesy. And again, there was no appeal process, no recourse, no complaint.

Around Des Moines, such horror stories abound. Unaccountable inspectors enforce senseless regulations, often cutting the legs out from under the very poorest and hardest-working residents.

Many young folks in the DIY/HGTV age have decided that sweat equity is the best way to turn a home and potentially a profit, but find themselves caught in the crossfire of Des Moines city officials and area landlords.

Quasi-government groups like the Neighborhood Finance Corp. in Des Moines maintain residency restrictions meant to stop slumlords from capitalizing on their benefits, but such restrictions also block help to ambitious homeowners renting elsewhere while they remodel their fixer-upper. Those who can’t afford to rent elsewhere often find themselves stuck in a catch 22: The city won’t allow occupancy in their remodel until it’s completely up to code, but lenders won’t typically fund repairs to vacant homes.

Low-income renters like Fry find themselves in an even worse position, victimized by city regulations that don’t take their individual situation into account at all. City inspectors only care that the counters are fixed and the doors rehung — it doesn’t matter to them who can afford to live there when it’s done.

“I read through the inspection sheet to prepare for the inspection. It says in so many words that the list is not exhaustive, and that they have an overreaching authority, more or less. So how could you prepare? It's set up to fail,” said Fry. “Why does the city have this privacy-violating authority to return time and again until your house meets some imaginary standard? I don't think the city should be involved in my private contract at all.”

These arbitrary standards underline the skewed understanding of Des Moines’ comfortable middle- and upper-class power brokers, and their disconnect with the real-life struggles of those at the bottom.

Poorly maintained slum rentals and project homes aren’t anyone’s dream. People live there because it’s a step above sleeping on the street — and that’s a pretty vast improvement.

We’re not talking about West Side socialites looking for a shorter commute. These are young adults nickel and diming their way through school, immigrant families trying to create a home for themselves in a new country, and folks fighting disability or addiction and trying to make an honest living at gas stations and retail stores.

In my case, it was a single construction worker with two jobs, buying $50 worth of repair materials and working on my “public nuisance” house for most of seven years, often sleeping in my car outside the house or in the heatless, waterless basement, because I couldn’t afford to go anywhere else.

Of course if inspectors had known, they would have kicked me out because the house wasn’t up to code yet.

Despite the misguided intentions of Des Moines city government, it isn’t compassionate to push these impoverished families into homelessness.

There are plenty of folks willing to take initiative and improve homes and rentals all over Des Moines given the opportunity, but that can only happen if the city stops playing God and lets people do what is in their own best interest. City-mandated changes often cost money that could be used for more serious problems — the cost of a new countertop would go a long way toward replacing broken plumbing, bringing old wiring up to date, or patching roof holes.

Fry believes that if the city must insert itself into private rental contracts, there should be concrete limits and set expectations.

“The list should be limited to safety and security only, not cosmetic issues like peeling wallpaper or a chipped counter,” she said. “The city’s attack on the poor is getting frustrating.”

JOEL KURTINITIS of Des Moines is a homeschooler, conservative-libertarian writer and millennial political activist, who contributes regular columns to the Register. Follow Joel on Facebook at www.facebook.com/jkurtinitis or on Twitter @Joel_Kurtinitis