Tim Jamieson met Deputy Wendy Gullickson, a younger, no-nonsense part-timer who showed little warmth during his orientation. Wendy provided Tim with a map of DuPray’s small business district, a handheld belt radio, and a wind-up time clock, emphasizing the job’s old-fashioned tools.

Wendy explained that Tim must punch the time clock at two checkpoints: Fromie’s Small Engine Sales and Service and the rail depot at the west end of Main, a one-point-six-mile stretch each way. She noted that the previous Night Knocker, Ed Whitlock, completed four circuits per shift, implying a roughly thirteen-mile nightly walk.

Wendy outlined scheduling: Tim would likely have two nights off per week, probably Mondays and Tuesdays, though adjustments might be needed depending on town needs. She stressed that while townspeople joked about the position, the Night Knocker role was important given the small size of the local force.

Perceiving Wendy’s skepticism, Tim asked if she had a problem with him. Wendy admitted uncertainty, expressing loyalty to a small, cohesive crew and wariness of “some guy who walked in off the street” getting the job. The exchange made clear the social and professional hurdle Tim faced to earn trust.

Tim responded by quoting his grandfather’s adage about prevention and revealed that his grandfather had been a Night Knocker, which motivated his application. This personal connection seemed to soften Wendy slightly.

Wendy concluded by characterizing the role as “an analog job in a digital age,” urging Tim to accept the archaic equipment and routine as part of DuPray’s approach to night patrol.