You all are going to have to put up with just a couple more posts before I tell you about the corpse. This one will be blessedly short for your benefit.
This actually occurred before we had decided to purchase a home, while we were still looking at rentals. One company has this automated system where you can let yourself into homes. You fill out a form online and drive to the house. They give you a code that opens a lockbox. When you request that code, someone is assigned to help you choose a place. This person, in my case, was named Emily.
My wife and I looked at around 5 houses that day, and without fail, shortly after we requested the key code, my phone would ring.
“Hi, I’m Emily with __ calling for Dawson Goddell [sic].”
I’d answer and she’d rattle off some things about the house and give us a number to call if we had questions. It was a bit annoying, but I figured that she was working on commission like the average real-estate agent. (I found out from the agent we eventually used that the company Emily worked for pays more on rental commissions that most competitors.)
Then we get to the fifth house. It’s in Lawrence, which has a mixed reputation, but the neighborhood is nice and I saw a lot of open garages. People were apparently pretty trusting here. It’s a good sign.
We get to the house and walk up to the door where the lock box is supposed to be, but there isn’t a doorknob. The doorknob and the lockbox that should be hanging off it, are gone. The doorknob stub is a piece of pinched metal. Someone took a pair of bolt cutters to the doorknob. You could even see the arc the handles made against the door.
So this time I called Emily.
“Hi, Emily. It’s Dawson Goodell. We just spoke.”
“Hi. What can I do for you?”
“We’re at ___ and the doorknob is missing.”
“Hmm, have you tried the door?”
“It is closed and there is no knob.”
Silence from the other end.
“The lockbox is missing too. I think someone broke into this house.”
She laughed. “I guess that’s why no one has seen the house since April.” (It was June now.)
“Makes sense,” I said. “Well, goodbye!”
We called it a day then and headed back to our home, which does have a knob.