Death Threat

I got a call this morning from a Mr. James Isaac, threatening to put a f-ing bullet between my eyes. I had sold a security system to him on Cinco de Mayo, and on Seis de Mayo, the tech, Robert, went to install the system. Due to a small paperwork error on my part and Mr. Isaac’s unwillingness to provide a second emergency contact telephone number, the system could not be installed. Later on last night, Mr. Isaac’s home was apparently robbed. I don’t have any details about what was stolen, but he thinks Robert or me is responsible. I, in turn, contacted the police to let them know he was threatening my life. An officer came over while we were having a barbeque outside and wrote some scanty, cramped, messing notes in his little notepad and said he would write a report. The officer had absolutely no personality, was totally unfriendly and overly paranoid. In my perfect world, he would contact the Rockford police, where Mr. Isaac lives, who would convince him I had nothing to do with the robbery, and Mr. Isaac would call me to apologize. Of course, that will never happen. Maybe in the afterlife when all truth will be known. It’s a weird situation, and Roseli of course is worried. I’ll be working in a different area, just in case. Otherwise, I’ve been getting sales, and selling door-to-door is not the worst job I’ve ever had. That honor goes to writing grammar tests, which I did last summer.