Sometimes precautions backfire.
Not only might this be attributable for perhaps, for the sake of epinw argument, 10% of the planet's human population - certainly not that of bombus fervidus - but of belongings gone missing, good intentions and plans gone haywire.
sidenote: Yours Truly thinks that this haywire business might be yet another example of agrarian holdover in our lingua that we no longer recognize as such. And, I imagine, that haywire was a farmly article that could, from time to time, snap back, break loose, causing some sort of bodily harm.
YT is in process of a refinancing/reevaluating kind of thing. Amongst trudging duties is paying a wack of dough to have a building rescoped/reappraised. This meant an appointment with a stranger and an agent de moi suggested that, being a femme and all, a femme surveyor of scenes be used. So I do not confirm a theoretical reappraising situ for today but get a message from the femme in question that she'll be present and accounted for and accounting all things good & bad in a few, as in hours.
So this appraising femme shows up and she scares me.
As I told Kennedy if she had said Oh, I am a bounty hunter in actuality and do this property-related shit on the side I would not have questioned her burly faux-blonde figure at all. She clucked her tongue in a most peculiar manner, made odd comments, asked even odder questions, and was ever curt and snide, matching the demeanour at hand - or afoot.
She did not bother to open doors to things (hey, who the hell is YT to tell a bounty hunting appraisor how to do their gig) but instead would inquire as to what lay beyond or behind things. She did note decrepitude and such and when she left I felt a need to burn sage but had none so a quick vacuum of her bounty hunter bad vibes had to suffice.
Moral: bounty hunter types walk amongst us in a cornucopia of forms, including the mall-esque lady version, but if one is not a scofflaw one must only dodge verbal barbs, not TASERS.

Sage Love.