Pip Gets A Promotion
Lately, carrion vulture shadows from 17 years ago have been circling. Namely, when I was a dumbass college kid, I racked up some debt on some credit cards that I knew nothing about having and which were passed out like candy to young fools like me.
Now, though, I understand, and I religiously pay everything on time and in full. Since then, I've bought a house, several cars, and have some brand new and better cards in my wallet now. I know my credit score, and it beats most people's.
None of this is still on my credit report, which, to me, means nobody cares anymore except a few jackals looking for long-dead meat to sustain them. Thus, I'm not particularly motivated to take care of this, and even if I did, the original people I owed have long since written off my pittances on their 1991 federal taxes. My logic is, if I pay, I'm just giving money to people who aren't the people I wronged. Therefore, why do it?
For awhile after I moved, I was in an information hidey hole, but now I've been here long enough that folks apparently can look me up easier. So I've gotten a few pointless communications, and one this lovely Saturday morning at 8:47 a.m. in fact.
The first time, I just hung up.
The second time, I was much too busy with important affairs involving pillows and blankets, so I put my instantaneously designated office manager, P. Peregrine Took, on the phone.
The conversation went like this:
RCB (Rude Collector Beotch): "Can I please speak wit ARI?"
PM (Puggin Manager): "snnnnnnnnnnnorrrrrrrrrrt sniffsniffsniffsniff sssssnnnnnnnnortttt"
RCB: "Hello? HELLO!?"
PM: "sniffsniffsniffsniff snooorrrrt snooorrrrrrrrrrrt sniffsniff"
RCB: ::click::
A third farce ensued at about 8:51 a.m.:
RCB (Rude Collector Beotch): "Can I please speak wit ARI?"
PM (Puggin Manager): "snnnnnnsniffnnnnnorrrrrrrrrrt sniffsniffsniff sssssnnnnnnnnortttt"
RCB: "Hello? HELLO!?"
PM: ::jumps at phone, hitting it with one paw::
RCB: ::click::
So far, I am impressed with how Mr. Took handles himself, dealing amicably with high-pressure clients within moments of being hired. I think he'll be finding a something-to-do-with-chicken type raise in his pay packet very soon.
If all goes well, his rudimentary understanding of currency, debt collection and the mails will result in 651.93 ounces of his "earnings" (a.k.a. what he makes) being delivered in full to Genesis Financial Solutions, Merchants Credit Guide Co. or Ken Hughes, either in Hauppage, New York, Chicago, Illinois, or any of the other FIVE ADDRESSES on this pointless communique sitting here on his "desk", or preferably all of the above.
Now, though, I understand, and I religiously pay everything on time and in full. Since then, I've bought a house, several cars, and have some brand new and better cards in my wallet now. I know my credit score, and it beats most people's.
None of this is still on my credit report, which, to me, means nobody cares anymore except a few jackals looking for long-dead meat to sustain them. Thus, I'm not particularly motivated to take care of this, and even if I did, the original people I owed have long since written off my pittances on their 1991 federal taxes. My logic is, if I pay, I'm just giving money to people who aren't the people I wronged. Therefore, why do it?
For awhile after I moved, I was in an information hidey hole, but now I've been here long enough that folks apparently can look me up easier. So I've gotten a few pointless communications, and one this lovely Saturday morning at 8:47 a.m. in fact.
The first time, I just hung up.
The second time, I was much too busy with important affairs involving pillows and blankets, so I put my instantaneously designated office manager, P. Peregrine Took, on the phone.
The conversation went like this:
RCB (Rude Collector Beotch): "Can I please speak wit ARI?"
PM (Puggin Manager): "snnnnnnnnnnnorrrrrrrrrrt sniffsniffsniffsniff sssssnnnnnnnnortttt"
RCB: "Hello? HELLO!?"
PM: "sniffsniffsniffsniff snooorrrrt snooorrrrrrrrrrrt sniffsniff"
RCB: ::click::
A third farce ensued at about 8:51 a.m.:
RCB (Rude Collector Beotch): "Can I please speak wit ARI?"
PM (Puggin Manager): "snnnnnnsniffnnnnnorrrrrrrrrrt sniffsniffsniff sssssnnnnnnnnortttt"
RCB: "Hello? HELLO!?"
PM: ::jumps at phone, hitting it with one paw::
RCB: ::click::
So far, I am impressed with how Mr. Took handles himself, dealing amicably with high-pressure clients within moments of being hired. I think he'll be finding a something-to-do-with-chicken type raise in his pay packet very soon.
If all goes well, his rudimentary understanding of currency, debt collection and the mails will result in 651.93 ounces of his "earnings" (a.k.a. what he makes) being delivered in full to Genesis Financial Solutions, Merchants Credit Guide Co. or Ken Hughes, either in Hauppage, New York, Chicago, Illinois, or any of the other FIVE ADDRESSES on this pointless communique sitting here on his "desk", or preferably all of the above.
Comments
I like his style, T.
I suspect cats may be making the collection calls, Amanda.