Some days I really hate people
I'm working today. One saturday a month. No biggie.
For those who don't know, I work at a bank. I'm a loan officer. Part of my job is to routinely check on those accounts for which we aren't receiving payments. Deadbeats, essentially. Saturdays are often good days to do that because most people are home. I call, I remind them that yes they do still owe us money and when can I expect payment.
I am beginning to realize my parents must have messed up when they raised me. I pay my bills on time, I don't blame other people for what's wrong with my life, I don't make excuses for myself or my shortcomings.
I hate talking to people who just keep making excuses for why they can't pay. I mean, I would understand if they were suddenly unemployed, were suffering from a terminal illness, or had just been in the hospital for a heart attack, but when they have accounts with us and I can see how much they are getting and what they are spending their money on---sympathy goes right out the window.
There is nothing being sold at Fashion Bug or Walmart that you can't live with out. No one has to have cigarettes and booze. Certainly not when they are in danger of losing their damn house.
Gah. I really hate people. I do. When you signed on the bottom line it was a promise to pay back the money. When I made the damn loan it was with an expectation they not only understood that, they were in agreement with it. But now that it's time to actually pony up, suddenly I'm a horrible human being for expecting the miserable fuckers to follow through. They knew when they signed that the bank was taking their house, their car, their stupid harley motorcycle with all the fucking bells and whistles and custom paint job as collateral. Don't get pissy with me when the repo man shows up to cllect your shit. Especially not when you haven't even made a token payment in four months.
For those who don't know, I work at a bank. I'm a loan officer. Part of my job is to routinely check on those accounts for which we aren't receiving payments. Deadbeats, essentially. Saturdays are often good days to do that because most people are home. I call, I remind them that yes they do still owe us money and when can I expect payment.
I am beginning to realize my parents must have messed up when they raised me. I pay my bills on time, I don't blame other people for what's wrong with my life, I don't make excuses for myself or my shortcomings.
I hate talking to people who just keep making excuses for why they can't pay. I mean, I would understand if they were suddenly unemployed, were suffering from a terminal illness, or had just been in the hospital for a heart attack, but when they have accounts with us and I can see how much they are getting and what they are spending their money on---sympathy goes right out the window.
There is nothing being sold at Fashion Bug or Walmart that you can't live with out. No one has to have cigarettes and booze. Certainly not when they are in danger of losing their damn house.
Gah. I really hate people. I do. When you signed on the bottom line it was a promise to pay back the money. When I made the damn loan it was with an expectation they not only understood that, they were in agreement with it. But now that it's time to actually pony up, suddenly I'm a horrible human being for expecting the miserable fuckers to follow through. They knew when they signed that the bank was taking their house, their car, their stupid harley motorcycle with all the fucking bells and whistles and custom paint job as collateral. Don't get pissy with me when the repo man shows up to cllect your shit. Especially not when you haven't even made a token payment in four months.