Et Tu, Repo Man?
I met Lenny for lunch today. Our work schedules have been out of whack for a few months, so he has had to sit on yet another journey through The Redneck Chronicles. (If you haven't, do check out his tales in my tag Lenny!.) Year ago, he discovered he was financially secure. When that discovery was made, he wisely liquidated just about all of his debt. This included paying off his various vehicles in full.
Imagine his surprise, then, when about 2 am the dogs woke him to a tow truck hitching to his own truck, paid off in full years ago. Step One: Loose the hounds. Once the Rottweiler pair has the driver backed against his rig, Step Two: Exit the house -- no reason to hurry -- in a robe carrying a sixteen gauge shotgun and a .45 Colt. Step Three: With the Colt pointed between the man's eyes, ask politely but firmly what the hell he thought he was doing.
The driver had repossession papers for the truck. A shout to the house brought Lenny's wife down with the payoff papers. In the interim, the driver noted that a truck wasn't worth anyone's life. (Funny thing, when he got to this point in the story I voiced exactly the same thought Lenny did: "It's my truck." The following "And I don't know you" seems unnecessary to the thinking observer.) Once the legalities were cleared up, the driver left alone and unharmed.
There has been a rash of bank screw-ups like this, where notes are lost, where payoffs are misplaced, where the wrong house/truck/asset has been foreclosed upon or repossessed. Our national reaction, for some reason, has been to assist the banks, never mind the rule of law (another reason to hate Chase, it seems).
This can't end well. Especially if you drive a repo truck.
Imagine his surprise, then, when about 2 am the dogs woke him to a tow truck hitching to his own truck, paid off in full years ago. Step One: Loose the hounds. Once the Rottweiler pair has the driver backed against his rig, Step Two: Exit the house -- no reason to hurry -- in a robe carrying a sixteen gauge shotgun and a .45 Colt. Step Three: With the Colt pointed between the man's eyes, ask politely but firmly what the hell he thought he was doing.
The driver had repossession papers for the truck. A shout to the house brought Lenny's wife down with the payoff papers. In the interim, the driver noted that a truck wasn't worth anyone's life. (Funny thing, when he got to this point in the story I voiced exactly the same thought Lenny did: "It's my truck." The following "And I don't know you" seems unnecessary to the thinking observer.) Once the legalities were cleared up, the driver left alone and unharmed.
There has been a rash of bank screw-ups like this, where notes are lost, where payoffs are misplaced, where the wrong house/truck/asset has been foreclosed upon or repossessed. Our national reaction, for some reason, has been to assist the banks, never mind the rule of law (another reason to hate Chase, it seems).
This can't end well. Especially if you drive a repo truck.