Practicing in SW Virginia, part seven - I have said many times that there is little joy in what I do for a living. However, there are some days that provide a little silver lining. In the middle of nowhere at the steps of the courthouse, I am selling someone's home. I'm approached by a man - looking a little dirty, weary and cranky, wearing old sweats - hole in the knee and coffee stained on the front. He's also built like a coke machine. But I have no fear (Trey Gregory) for I am holding a pen. He's angry. Its his dad's home. He makes an offer north of 200k. I tell him I need a check for $20,000 as down payment. He doesn't have it. Maybe because he doesn't have pockets. He's now starting to look a little like Bruce Smith bearing down on a qb. Says he can get me some money at the bank down the street. I try to explain I need the money now, but he is completely blocking out the sun. He needs a ride; pushes my seat all the way back but still has his knees in his chest. Feeling a little more comfortable because there is no way he can hurt me from this cramped up position. We get to the bank and the teller rejects him. Its out of earshot, but he is from out of town, has no checks, no account at that bank and needs his wife who has additional ID. I have no idea how he is going to wrestle $20,000 from the teller, but wrestling seems to be a real possibility. His wife arrives at the bank looking like how I must look while walking the dogs at 3 in the morning. She sits next to me and explains that they live in New York and just found out about the foreclosure; drove nine hours through the night and arrived at the time of sale. She pulls a solid black credit card from her purse and a few minutes later I'm holding a check, not for $20k but for over $200k. The coke machine tells me he plays in the NFL, his dad has cancer and he wants him to die on his childhood farm. He hugs me outside the bank and hops into his S-Class that his wife was driving. No autograph but a new favorite player. #hoperestored.
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