You're checked into a motel on the edge of town. It's Monday morning, your first day on the job. Your report is due at the end of three business days, which is in 57 hours. You set the timer on your watch to count down from there. You climb into your car, switch the wipers to high, and ease into the inbound lane. Precision strike – get in, get your count, get out. Pretty straightforward.

But wait. Somewhere along the line you were given the impression that this town was small, maybe even a village. Your papers say it is unincorporated and anonymous. There must be some mistake. This "town" is a metropolis! This is going to be a much bigger job than you thought.

You tighten your grip on the wheel. Your car is a rental, an old Cadillac DeVille with the turning radius of the Vatican. Fully uninsured. You would have had to front the cash for collision and liability, so you declined both. You have an expense account, of course, but it could take weeks to be reimbursed, and your cash supply is limited. Besides, you figured nothing too awful could happen somewhere unincorporated. Now you're not so sure.

Hours pass as you circle the streets in the slashing rain, dodging plotholes, searching for free parking. Every spot is either too small or a fire hydrant. You need to park and get on with it. Decision time: