Gregory A. Julian moved into the mansion on 481 Cayuga Dr. Soon, angry letters from the bank began to pour into his mail slot, threatening foreclosure unless he began to pay off his sizable loan. Three months later, the requisite amount of time had passed and an eviction notice was printed by my boss. And that’s the asshole that sent me, late Friday evening, just before I left for the weekend, to deliver the letter in person to the absent Mr. Julian. I ground my teeth as I wound my way through the suburbs looking for Cayuga Drive. Somehow, this man I had never knew or met had unwittingly conspired with my boss to ruin my evening plans.