Thief or Guest?

The incident with an unexpected "guest" at our house occurred about 40 years ago when I had just crossed the age of thirty. At that time, I was working as a manager at L Electronics Company, overseeing six service centers in the Chungcheong and Jeolla regions. I was based in Daejeon, with service centers and various agencies in Chungju, Cheongju, Jeonju, Gwangju, and Suncheon. My schedule was packed with frequent visits to these locations. Spending over a hundred days on business trips each year, I barely had the chance to witness my elder daughter, who was a newborn at the time, growing up. Despite being home, I was more like an indifferent father who, in the span of three years, managed to create, not nurture, two daughters. Reflecting on it now, it weighs on my mind that I was oblivious to my responsibilities.

 

The company-provided residence was spacious, with a wide plot of land and a large building. The house, constructed along the hillside to match the varying heights, had the kitchen and the living room at the lowest point, a couple of steps up were two bedrooms, and on top of that, there was a small room, a kitchen, and a bathroom—effectively a three-story house. The distance from the neighboring house provided solitude, especially at night, when only our family occupied the space. As I spent over a hundred days a year on business trips, there were many times when only my wife and newborn daughter were left to take care of the house. Though I couldn't avoid business trips, I wasn't overly concerned because it was a relatively safe residential area. At that time, the mindset prioritized the company over the family, not just for me but for everyone. It was the norm.

 

One day, after returning from a business trip, I heard from my wife about an unwelcome incident. When she went down to the kitchen in the morning, she found cigarette butts on the floor, leftover food scraps in a dish pulled from the refrigerator, and a mess in the corner, including a left-behind stool. Although the drawers of the wardrobe in the bedroom across the hall were all open and in disarray, nothing seemed to be stolen. No one was injured, and nothing was lost, so we were fortunate. Still, the idea of an intruder secretly entering and thoroughly searching the house left me feeling sorry for the thief, who left empty-handed. When I shared the story at work, a colleague mentioned a superstition that thieves won't get caught if they leave their feces behind. How the colleague, who wasn't a thief, knew about it remains a mystery.

 

Inspired by Bernard Shaw, who said, "The person caught is the thief, not the one who stole," I felt a bit sorry for the "guest" who left empty-handed, having stolen nothing but perhaps a morsel of rice. A few days later, when I was negotiating a lease for a small warehouse near the Daejeon service center to store refrigerators pouring in large quantities, I casually brought up the topic of the nocturnal visitor. The person I was negotiating with responded, "It's quite harsh for the guest who left empty-handed. You should leave something worth taking, at least..." Instead of being angry, I couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed for the uninvited guest who left without anything. Later, I found out that the owner of the warehouse was a devout person engaged in volunteer activities at the church. While I felt embarrassed as someone who had avoided going to church for a long time, blaming the busy work schedule day and night, on weekdays, and weekends, I couldn't step into the church during my entire stay in Daejeon.

 

Even now, our house doesn't have any valuables worth stealing, so when we go out during the day, there's really no need to lock the door. Still, I lock the door in case something inconvenient happens. Therefore, I say, "Thieves, please don't bother with our house; it's just a waste of your time."

 

(August 28, 2023)