Repossession What are you afraid of?: Repossession

By I am NOT a bum on Wednesday, April 17, 2002 - 04:44 pm:

    Lost my job 5 months ago, and still don't know when I will find full time work. Had the repo man show up today, and hook up the tow truck to my (their) car. The fun part was the big black lincoln parked in my neighbors driveway. A slick looking italian guy in a suit was hovering next to the car while tubby the mechanic scratches paint off my cars bumper with a big iron hook. I come out, and asked if I can get my stuff out of the glove box. When I'm coming down the steps, the doors of the lincoln open and two huge italian guys wearing disco era mirror shades step out. They're wearing zip down running suit jackets, just like the mob wops in a scorsese flick. Tubby looks nervous, and says "I knocked on your door!", as if that is going to keep me from pulling out the feared .45 and killing the lot of them where they stand. I say, "oh well", and open the car up, and pull my stuff from the glove box. The slick guy stands off to the side smoking a cigarette, and doesn't say a word. Tubby goes to his truck, and gets a piece of paper. "This is the person you want to call. I think you can probably get some slack if you call them. You're car is almost payed off!". I take the number and hand the guy the key. I tell him to move the car back so he doesn't scratch my neighbors car. The fat wops near the lincoln are standing in my neighbors driveway with clenched fists. The slick guy lights another cigarette. I go inside and call the number and they say I have to send them $700 by tomorrow. For some ridiculous reason I tell them that I'll try to get it together. I can afford to send them maybe $400. I don't know where I can come up with the rest. the helpful bank rep says, "OK, put the driver on the phone, and I'll tell him to unhook your car". I step outside, and find that they have already unhooked the car, and the two fat wops are again hidden behind the lincolns smoked glass windows. I hand the driver the phone, and he says "OK! Thanks!", and wishes me luck as he hands back the phone. The slick guy throws his lit cigarette butt on my front steps, and walks back to the lincoln. As they pull away, I see my neighbor, an 85 year old woman peering fearfully from the blinds in her living room window. Life sucks.

By patrick on Wednesday, April 17, 2002 - 04:53 pm:

    the best part is how you call them "wops". thats totally cool.

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