I used to work for a Realtor company (ReMax) and we "trashed out" homes the banks have forclosed on. The people have 30 days to move all the stuff they want out of the house, after 30 days a crew comes in and we either keep or throw whatever is left away. Since it's technically the banks property after said 30 days.
Well we roll up on this nice house in the country, the lawn is all mowed and it looks like an easy job, for us that meant either nothing inside, or nice stuff inside. Well the locks are usually the first thing that's replaced as ReMax don't want people just wandering into a home they recently repo'd. So imagine 5 guys wearing our ripped up faded jeans, torn t-shirts, scraggly beards worn work boots walking up the drive way after just hopping out of a well worn, chevy dually, with a 30 foot patched together trailer on the back with all manner of tools bungied corded to the trailer and semi-offensive bumper stickers (Bumper stickers we found at a previous home) plastered all over the back. A couple of us reek of mid-morning beer, and the pleasent aroma of Cannibus Sativa clings to us. Our fearless leader, Mickey is an older gent, with a thick blonde beard, and coke bottle glasses, he's pot bellied and furry, and never has a shortage of fancy curse word sayings. He has a crowbar, and he hands it to me. I gladly begin wrenching the locked door open, all the while my compatriots are standing around and telling bawdy tales of past female conquerings. (Yes we had the key to the door, but since it was gunna be replaced we usually used brute force, simply because we could, and we liked breaking things.)
Finally the door is open and we barge inside to a fully furnished home. Immediatly the pillaging begins. As stated earlier anything left in the home after 30 days is technically the realtors, and since we worked for them and was just gunna trash it out to begin with we keep what we want. We have a method to our madness, we each claim a corner in whatever room, where we store anything we find. Well this house was fully loaded, with nice furniture, big 42 inch TV that a couple of us almost brawled over, a PS3 & XBox 360 with at least 30 games between the two of them. And the prize..a seperate room full of Detroit Redwing paraphanalia. Sighed pucks, and sticks, framed pictures of some of the greats, and rookie cards behind glass. We start whooping and hollering as we think we found the mother load. Somewhere a doobie is lit up and we all gather round and partake.
"What in the HELL is going on here!!!" is what we here next as some guy comes downstairs in his boxers. Yeah, the awkwardness your imagining right now is what happened, but a lot worse. Apparently, the guy was planning on moving later that day, he thought that was the 30th day, and it was actually the day after. We had a few of his things already divvied up, and burning a fatty in this guy's house. And may the Lord strike me dead, but Mickey had the joint when the guy saw us, and after a few seconds he asked the guy.."So..do you get high?" and offered the guy a hit of our joint.
Well the guy didn't get stoned, and we never took any of his stuff, we could have but after a brief talk we decided it would suck if we was in his position. Anyways he made a few frantic phone calls and after an hour a small fleet of trucks showed up to help the guy move. All we got out of it was some beer he let us have after we decided not to snag any of us stuff.
To this day it was one of the most awkward, yet unique experiances in my life with a total stranger. And it all ended well. We got paid for watching the guy move, and he got all of his stuff out that day. I still laugh whenever I think of that day.
Last edited by Commissar Schultz; 02-25-11 at 12:46 AM.