In which our intrepid adventurer discovers that he has fucked up.

[fancycwabs]

Friday night we went to see Matt & Ben at East End Playhouse, and had a wonderful time. Afterwards we had some Mexican food, and Mrs. Cwabs went to pick up the little cwab from You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown (she's playing Sally). I came home and was surprised to hear the doorbell ring at 10:30. I thought maybe someone had forgotten a garage door opener or some keys, so I went to the front door expecting to be amused by somebody's story. Instead I found a middle-aged man holding a clipboard.

"Mr. Cwabs?" he asked.

"Yes..."

"We're here to pick up your car. You've fallen behind on payments to the tune of $BIGNUMBER, so we're picking it up."

Note--I knew I was behind on payments, but I thought I was behind a month, maybe two.

"Oh. Uh. Can I just write you a check?"

"No. I've already called the sheriff, and I'll need to report to him that I've picked up the car."

"Oh. Uh. Okay. Um. Uh. Let me get my stuff out--are you sure you couldn't just let me keep the car while I took care of this?"

"No--we've got to take the car."

"Oh. Okay. Um, let me get some of my stuff out." Wild unloading session commences. "So, how does this work. Obviously I need to get caught up on payments..."

"We'll need a faxed authorization from $LEINHOLDER on Monday telling us it's okay to release the car."

"Oh. Okay. Please take care of my car--I'd like to get it back in one piece."

"It's okay sir, my wife is with me, and I'll let her follow me back to the lot in your car."

"Okay. That's um..."

Repo Man's wife got in the car, backed out of the driveway. I came inside, dazed. Called the automated payment line, thought better of it, tried to call customer service, discovered that they wouldn't be open until Monday. When I was supposed to be in Jacksonville. Meanwhile, Mrs. Cwabs came home with the little Cwab.

"Where's your car, honey?"

"Uh. It's been taken back."

"Oh. I thought I saw a car that looked like yours being loaded up on the back of a tow truck at the end of the street." So much for the driver's wife driving. I called the number on the card he'd left, and he explained that his wife was too short to drive my car, but that he was going to do it instead. By this point I was pretty sure he was just saying stuff to not make me explode.

The weekend went by without my needing to be anywhere, fortunately. Monday I needed to catch a 6am flight, so Mrs. Cwabs and I set out at 4:30am to be at the airport by 5, with a stop by work to print out some paperwork. When I finally made it to Jacksonville, I tried calling $LIENHOLDER, only to sit on hold for so long that my cellphone goes dead. I bought a charger at the gas station, and charged it up, still waiting on hold for ten, twenty minutes.

I hadn't come to Jacksonville to sit on hold, but rather to take measurements and photographs, so I left the car problem for a bit and went in to do my actual job, which only took a couple of hours. Afterward, I headed back to the rental car and called back. After another ridiculous wait, I finally got a customer service rep.

"I need to make arrangements to get caught up on my car payments." I told her.

"Oh, I'm sorry. If you car's been picked up, the only thing we can accept is (4*$BIGNUMBER), and you have ten days to come up with it."

"Uh. Oh. Is there some other way to not have to do that? That's gonna be a little difficult, as I'm not even in town. I didn't even know it had reached this state until you came and picked upt the car."

"No. You'll have to get approval from a supervisor to get the loan reinstated without a complete payoff. Do you want her voicemail?"

Yes, I wanted her voicemail. I left a detailed message basically begging for a little mercy, and instructions on how to get hold of me. Then it was back to the airport, and back to Memphis by midnight.

This morning, I started digging into my assorted retirement plans from various jobs to see if I could figure out how to come up with (4*$BIGNUMBER), but made a point to calling the supervisor to see if she'd gotten my message. After a brief lecture, we arranged to get back to sending them $BIGNUMBER via Western Union, and after a trip to the bank, where I picked up a stack of twenties an inch thick; and to the Western Union counter at Kroger where the guy in front of my was wiring cash back to China; several additional phone calls; and getting lost trying to find the tiny little sign on the vehicle recovery office, I finally got my car back.

N.B. There was a 9mm ammo clip sitting on the shelf at the recovery place. The girl (the wife from Friday night) said that it had been cleaned out from a car that had gone to auction. I don't know that I believed her.

Comments

[skatiemom.livejournal.com]

I can't see where a grocery store should have legal leg to stand on in such a situation. It's not your responsibility to pay for the thief's crimes.

[fancycwabs.livejournal.com]

They don't have one, but the process of getting them to stop asking for their money involves getting case numbers and bank affidavits and so on. It's all a giant pain in the tuchis.

[skatiemom.livejournal.com]

Laughing at them didn't work? Damn.

I know getting the reports for my minor accident a year ago was a huge PITA, can't imagine the headache involved with multiple bureaucracies.

[fancycwabs.livejournal.com]

Talked to the police, and to Kroger. It looked like it was going to be a giant hassle, as the checks were stolen in Memphis and mostly written outside the city limits, but they used one in town.

I've still got to go to the bank and get the affidavit, though. Investigators get paid to so that stuff, but they get paid by the guy requesting copies of the report, not taxes in general. The bank ought to give me a letter for nada.