Donnie

A couple of weeks ago, Donnie called me. He wanted to move in six weeks into a new rental--which is roughly three weeks too early to look. Anyway, I sent Donnie a bunch of houses and told him to call me in a couple of weeks when the time was right.

One day, now four weeks out from when Donnie wanted to move, he called me asking once again for help. He said the exact same things he said before, almost word for word. He gave me the same spiel, which, at the time, suggested to me he was just frustrated and felt I wasn't listening. Of course, I did, but that still doesn't change the reality: the rental market is super-hot right now. You get what you get.

After way too long on the phone, I agreed to take Donnie to look at a few properties the following Sunday. I was already in self-loathing mode about the entire thing because I rarely will give up a Sunday afternoon for a rental shopping trip. Besides that, I had now talked to Donnie a few times and he had said the exact same things. It was as if he only had one particular topic he could discuss. That alone went from "well, he's probably frustrated" to unnerving.

Anyway, I took Marty Sunshine with me to meet Donnie and see the couple of homes that were available. When I show rentals, I often don't meet the person ahead of time. I make no apologies for taking someone with me when I go meet a stranger who wants to see a (most likely vacant) home. I never will. This particular day I was glad Marty was with me.

Donnie had an edge of anger to him. He wasn't unpleasant, but he was certainly strange. He was strange enough that I was through with the entire experience three minutes into our outing. I can't pick one particular item that stood out, but here is a small list of his odd behaviors for those two hours.

• While I was driving he continued to flash various items in my line of sight, including a concealed carry permit* (almost right away), pictures of rented homes, e-mails from other people he thought I should read, and his fully-tattooed arm with a picture of his dog on it. 
• He was very quick to tell me he purposely custom ordered his single cab truck because it was just him. He would be living alone with his little dog. He told me about six times he had no friends. He wasn't lamenting, he was bragging. 
• He never stopped talking. Ever. It was past the social convention of awkward "endless chatter." At one point he even started chanting (there is no other word for it) about how we are sum of the three people we associate and this wasn't a problem for him. Fortunately, he had nobody else.  
• Marty and I attempted to carry on a conversation with him. I asked why he moved to Arizona (he had been inconsistent about when he arrived). Donnie hemmed and hawed and quickly changed the subject. It was the quietest he had been since he had been in the car.
• He insisted if the place we looked at didn't come with an automatic ice maker it was a deal breaker. Awesome, but ice cube trays at the dollar store are a great alternative to being homeless. I was prepared to counter with that if he found a place that didn't have an ice maker. This is really not that unusual for someone to pick out a small detail they want to live and die on, but I threw it in because he kept on about the damn ice maker. 

There were many other odd triggers. All of which alone were just unusual. But added up together he put off a strange serial killer vibe. His energy was intense and if I had seen him walking down the street I would have gone the other way. He just had that kind of presence about him.

When he left my car, Marty started to say something and I put up my hand and stated, "There will be no noise in this car for the next five minutes." Five minutes wasn't nearly enough, but it was a good start. When the five blessed minutes were up, Marty stated I was not to show him homes again. He hadn't needed to bother.

I never do this, but I took Donnie's business card and looked up his business. He has no web presence. He (repeatedly) said he was a contractor but doesn't have any record of being one in Arizona or "California" (where repeatedly told me he is from). I also never do this, but I googled his name. There was someone with his exact name: first, middle and last, who died about two years ago. That person was 11 years older than Donnie. By the way, Donnie's middle name and last name are unusual. I know Donnie's middle name, because he wanted to be sure I knew it.

Since then, Donnie hasn't gone away. I sent him an e-mail saying I was unable to help him. He ignored it. I then sent him a text message explaining I had many pressing and personal things going on right now and I was unable to help him. I said my father is 79 and I wished him well. My father being 79 had absolutely nothing to do with my pressing personal issues, but let him jump to his own conclusions. (and I do have a lot of pressing personal things going on in the next few weeks). He has called every agent at my (small) office looking for me. He has repeatedly called me, leaving messages, saying he really needs me to help him. Nobody else will do. The messages have gotten more and more strange.

As a final way to hopefully get rid of him I talked to a male agent I had met. I told him Donnie gives off a strange vibe and I just wasn't comfortable. Did he want the lead? I explained I work in a small, mostly female, office and I wasn't about to give any of the agents there this guy. I was upfront about everything I experienced with Donnie and what do you know!? The agent agreed to take him on. Four hours later, I got a text from the agent. He said, "This guy doesn't shut up. He is giving me the creeps." Yep.




Note: *I don't care if anyone has a concealed carry permit. In fact, I am not sure they are needed in AZ. However, if you carry concealed, why announce it to the world? Doesn't that defeat the purpose? Also, why tell me and shove the CC permit in my face while I am driving 70 MPH on US60?