I should not have answered the door. I was trying to finish my last point for my Sunday school lesson when I heard a truncated buzz from my sometimes-functioning door bell.
Usually I would have ignored an unannounced guest at the door. Instead I answered the call of the buzzer.
My first reaction was: Mormon missionary. Young. Male. Preternaturally earnest.
But something was not quite right. He was alone. Dressed in khaki shorts. Wearing an identification card.
When Jiggs the aged golden retriever stuck his head around the door, all was revealed. "Whoaaa. Big dog. Don't let him hurt me." All said with the bon homie of a door-to door salesman.
Burglar alarms. It wasn't quite boys' bands that he was selling, but he was a veritable son of Professor Harold Hill. He quickly began spinning a great tale about his product. Being a clever attorney, I thought I could easily take on this kid in a verbal joust. So, I cut short the dance with my bottom line.
Hubris could have been my middle name. I was smug. Real smug. Then the kid shifted to merely chatting. And we talked for about 10 minutes about our professions, rude people, society in general. He must have mentioned "rich people" seven times -- referring to my neighbors. He then asked if I would fill his water bottle. I gladly did that.
As I closed the door, I realized what he had just done. He managed to find out a full list of information that would have been invaluable to a residential burglar, including: -- [You don't think I am going to be so stupid as to make the mistake twice, do you?]
When I was a criminal defense attorney, most of my clients were young men between 18 and 30. And quite a few of them were some of the most clever and talented people I have met in my life. It was almost as if crime was a game to them. And it was all about the game.
I hear many tales about the amount of theft in Mexico. The barred windows, locked doors, and broken bottle walls probably say far more than any statistics. But I suspect that most of the thieves are just like the young men I once represented: guys seeking thrills first, and money second. And we will have them with us always -- and everywhere.
Usually I would have ignored an unannounced guest at the door. Instead I answered the call of the buzzer.
My first reaction was: Mormon missionary. Young. Male. Preternaturally earnest.
But something was not quite right. He was alone. Dressed in khaki shorts. Wearing an identification card.
When Jiggs the aged golden retriever stuck his head around the door, all was revealed. "Whoaaa. Big dog. Don't let him hurt me." All said with the bon homie of a door-to door salesman.
Burglar alarms. It wasn't quite boys' bands that he was selling, but he was a veritable son of Professor Harold Hill. He quickly began spinning a great tale about his product. Being a clever attorney, I thought I could easily take on this kid in a verbal joust. So, I cut short the dance with my bottom line.
Hubris could have been my middle name. I was smug. Real smug. Then the kid shifted to merely chatting. And we talked for about 10 minutes about our professions, rude people, society in general. He must have mentioned "rich people" seven times -- referring to my neighbors. He then asked if I would fill his water bottle. I gladly did that.
As I closed the door, I realized what he had just done. He managed to find out a full list of information that would have been invaluable to a residential burglar, including: -- [You don't think I am going to be so stupid as to make the mistake twice, do you?]
When I was a criminal defense attorney, most of my clients were young men between 18 and 30. And quite a few of them were some of the most clever and talented people I have met in my life. It was almost as if crime was a game to them. And it was all about the game.
I hear many tales about the amount of theft in Mexico. The barred windows, locked doors, and broken bottle walls probably say far more than any statistics. But I suspect that most of the thieves are just like the young men I once represented: guys seeking thrills first, and money second. And we will have them with us always -- and everywhere.
