…for a rainy day…
illegal hamburglar breaking and entering

Unintentionally Illegal

Sometimes felonies are unintentional, and that makes them okay. I do believe it says that in the constitution. “If an individual does perpetrate a criminal grievance, but does so solely due to the universe being a total douche, said person shall be free from legal retribution.” See, it’s totally in there y’all. Don’t blame me, I didn’t write it.

It started (as all of my embarrassing and awful tales start) with the fateful words, “Hey, I’m going to leave my house and try to person today. Hopefully nothing goes TERRIBLY WRONG.”

lets do this

So I went to work. The company I work for has several houses spread out throughout the city, and on this day I was asked to drive out to one of them which I had never been to before. Easy enough, right?

So I plugged in my GPS and headed out. I got to the house no problem and started walking around looking for the key, which I had been assured was in a lock box near the door. But there were four doors and I couldn’t figure out which one was the main door, so I just kept walking laps around the building, overturning rocks and plants to look for the hidden lock box. When I couldn’t find it on the third lap, I just started checking the locks to see if the staff might have left it open for me. When even THAT didn’t work, I started trying to break in. I checked the windows, pushed on the old door jams and looked for weak spots because I was getting in that freaking house!!!

And that was when the door opened…

…and the scared man stepped out…

…and he asked me why the hell I was trying to break into his home.

You know what’s fun about GPS? The fact that they’re not accurate. Like AT ALL. As soon as you get to the neighborhood you need, they just say “You’ve arrived at your destination,” and from there it’s just good freaking luck to you! The GPS might as well say “You’re getting warmer… warmer… WARMER… oooh, cold.” All I am asking is that the satellites orbiting the earth constantly be at my beck and call to direct me within inches of the front door of whatever destination I type into my phone.  I don’t think that’s too much to ask for, science! Why don’t you stop discovering new elements and work on minimizing satellite based crimes.

Back to the story. When we left off, I was standing in a man’s yard, face pressed up to the window, being accused of things.

Him: Can I help you?

Me: I was just looking for the key.

Him: Because…?

Me: Because they asked me to pick something up.

Him: Here at my house?

Me: (looking around and figuring things out) You want to hear a funny story?

Him: <awkward silence>

Me: It’s possible I made a mistake and I don’t actually work here.

im-so-embarrassedkf0knecxkbmxbs8urxbq

We talked and had a good laugh, and it turns out I was actually looking for a house two doors down. We discussed the weather, the fact that none of the mailboxes are numbered, various misdemeanors, and also the fact that he “has a son about your age. He’s in school right now. Real cute, I think you might like him.”

This is what happens when I go outdoors.

My life needs an adult.

smooth criminal

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This entry was published on June 15, 2016 at 12:00 am. It’s filed under Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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