I think this happened to me back in '80. I was getting started in the fishing business and was working construction to pay the bills. A pal and I were on the same job, and both of us were living in campers for the summer to save money.

The OSHA guy showed up and told me he had to fill out a 'contact report', basically a piece of paper that proved to the state that he was working.
"What's your name?" he asked.
I told him my name.
"What's your address?"
"Don't have one. Live in that camper."
"Where do you park it?" he asked.
"Different place every night."
"How's about a PO box number?"
"Nope. No gotsa. I don't ever go to the PO for anything."
"How does your family get ahold of you if there is an emergency?"
"I'm an only child and an orphan."
"Oh.....Well, how about the IRS?"
"I don't fill in the address part. If they wanted me, they'd chase me down."
"No address, huh?" Actually he was a pretty good guy. "I'm gonna buy you a drink and you can tell me how you manage to get by with no address."
"I'll take you up on that sometime. Thanks. I gotta get back to work."
"OK."

He next called my pal over.
"What is your name?"
"George F. Jones,Jr."
"what's your address?"
He pointed to the camper parked next to mine.
"I'm Piccolo's next door neighbor," he grinned.

The poor bastard didn't know wwhether to shit or go blind.

LOL!

I hate OSHA guys, but that guy seems pretty cool.