Posted on 08/05/2006 8:44:32 AM PDT by Big Guy and Rusty 99
I work at a mortgage company and I deal with people who do financial transactions so breathtakingly moronic that some them require a helmet. I think of one man who bought a jeep from a local dealership. When the jeep broke down, he took it to the dealership and asked them to repair it. When they couldn’t repair it, he asked to trade it in. When they couldn’t trade it in, he handed the salesman the keys and said, “Here, you deal with it.” Later, he bought a truck from another dealership, because it struck him that he might need a way to get around which didn’t involve sharing a vehicle with strangers soaked in their own urine. Now he had a truck payment and a jeep payment for a jeep he didn’t own anymore. His wife told me this story, then I asked her if her husband had ever been dropped on his head as a child. She replied softly, “I don’t know, seems like it.”
Don’t get me wrong, some of these people are not to blame for their situation. Something catastrophic befell them, now they are picking up the pieces. A lot of times, it involves some debilitating disease. Those calls almost always involve me. The words “tumor” and “chemotherapy” are thrown around by my customers the way most people use the words “shoes” or “cheese.” For some reason, most of my customers have growths that can be seen from a distance. I often wonder if those calls are routed to me by the computer system or I’m just a disease magnet. Either way, I’m quitting the day I get someone with leprosy.
It is odd to be hated so intensely by total strangers. If you really want someone to break into a tourette’s syndrome, call them at dinnertime and offer them the chance to save money every month. I keep a notepad with me in case I learn any new words. Sometimes they’ll ask, “Can I have YOUR home number so I can call YOU during YOUR dinner?” Sometime I tell them that I’ve seen that episode of Seinfeld, it’s too bad you’re not as rich as he is. Other times, I give them a phone number with too many or not enough numbers in it. I’ll give them a little added encouragement by telling them, “Call me a three o’ clock in the morning, I’ll be sure to be asleep.” How many people have called only to be a lullabied to the tune of “you have not dialed enough numbers, please try again” at an hour when only security guards and medical interns are awake?
I have no remorse for my treatment of these people, nor do I excuse my behavior. Sure, I could come up with childish excuses like “they started it” or “they get what they deserve” or “cooties”. Though these things are true, I can not blame them at all. My job is simply set appointments for loan officers to get the customer out of whatever jam they are in and make sure they show up for the appointments. I am good at my job despite my tomfoolery. It’s all in how much you believe your own story. I once convinced a woman that my name was Jebediah from Lancaster County, Pennsylvania and I was, in fact, Amish. She said, “I thought you people couldn’t use technology.” I told her that I’d found a loophole. She set up an appointment with me. Unfortunately, her credit was not good enough for her to get a loan, but when she spoke with verification manager she was enthusiastic about keeping the appointment.
Like I said, most of the people I deal with are credit klutzes living life like a question mark. As in “Do I have money in the bank?” “Should I use my credit card to get a liposuction?” “Should I use the mortgage payment money to buy liquor?” “Why do my clothes smell like vomit?” These were questions I have to endure in this, my cold calling Special Olympics. My bosses also have questions for me like “What the hell is going through your mind? “Do you like your job?” and “Did you know you had another sale?” I argued you that my confounding labyrinth of mind games tested their commitment to the appointment. I was a one man good cop/bad cop, who could break these people into putty without much resistance, plus it was fun. When I ran out of the standard questions about credit cards, car payments, and home improvements I’d start asking absurd ones.
“How are your cheese payments?” I ask them.
“My what payments?”
“You know . . .” then dropping my voice a little in volume like we were sharing a secret, “. . . cheese payments.”
“I don’t think I’m quite following you.”
“Oh, you will.” I said cryptically “but anyway, do you have at least six months in your saving account?”
It didn’t take long to find out the customer was completely devoid of money, so much so that other pieces of green paper had taken to avoiding her as well. I told her that Poverty had it charm but why eat “Grade F” meat which consists of circus animals and mostly filler.
People tend to tell total strangers things they neither should nor want to hear. The person on the phone will tell me things which amount to informational fruitcake, you don’t want or need it. This woman explains that her money troubles were due to her daughter, who got her herself hooked to heroin. She explained that her daughter stole her credit cards and a ATM card, knowing that the pin number was the daughter’s birthday. I imagined my self bent on one knee, my head hung down, and my microphone outstretched like a tabloid television afternoon talk show host.
“Go on,” I said “then what happened?”
“Then I couldn’t keep any money or jewelry around the house because it would stick to her fingers.”
There was a pause in the conversation. I heard her exhale from her cigarette loudly.
“Now she’s out whoring around with a pimp and all” What can you say to something like that?
“You must be so proud,” I said, before setting the appointment for her to speak to our loan officer.
LOL
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URP!!
EEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
URP!!
EEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
URP!!
EEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
URP!!
EEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
URP!!
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URP!!EEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
URP!!
Macaulay! Get the hell out of here!!
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URP!!EEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
URP!!EEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
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URP!!
:)
Was that other thread about the man laws of alcohol consumption?
Sincerely,
Larry Hagman's liver
WAR GIVE ME BACK MY LICENSE!!
Keep in mind that I live on a small island that has 1800+ missles pointed at it, has no concept of "Stop Signs," has a President that is a convicted felon and spent time in prison and who also engineered his own fake assasination attempt and entered the hospital with his hands raised in a 'Victory' salute (a la Rocky Balboa)after being gutshot and you cannot drink the water from the tap. But I like your stories!
URP!
EEEEHHHHH!!!
Heheheheh...you always say that.
Stupid idiot!
Get off of my phone.
enjoy your debt
I have notches on my telephone for telephone marketers I have killed. I think there are 28. I lost track around 15.
i guess everyone's gotta do SOMETHING for a living....but hey, i'm a lawyer, wouldn't do to make fun of someone else's job : )
I have notches on my cubicle for dumbasses who don't take my help and later file for bancrupcy, which cost the taxpayers much. The people I call are hurting and will either get cash out or file for chapter 7 or 13. Which would you rather they do?
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