The debt collector
Written by Nick Gabrichidze , 2013, Bouillon
Written by Nick Gabrichidze , 2013, Bouillon
My working day starts at eight a.m. By nine I’m receiving
instructions and the route description.. Before, when I was posted in South
Central LA, we had to be at work by three, because actual collection would
start at four a.m., when most of the debt dodgers are still in bed. At the day
time there was no chance to get a right person in that neighborhood. But West
Hollywood is different. We move in at the day time, knowing that the court
order was delivered few days ahead. There are functional surveillance devices
all around; and unlike South Central, people here respect the law. So even if
debtors panic, they don’t usually get very far.
We’re usually staying at the cantina for quarter of an hour before
taking off: having coffee, chatting with colleagues... Just like at any other
office I assume. Redondo, my partner, argues about soccer with other Mexicans;
I don’t care about sports that much, and back in my days I watched NFL. So I am
having a talk with Robert Bartold, our supervisor, or with some of the older
guys, if Robert isn’t around.
We never talk about our work. Never.. Each of us will have to go
through extreme stress soon, so we don’t spoil this few minutes of peace..
After a while job becomes a routine, but I remember everyone whom I
collected from. Dead and alive. Over the years I have accounted thousands of
them, yet my memory somehow holds each face and each case...No names, names are
long forgotten. Just cases and faces...
At 9 we are out of the gate. First comes the easy staff: evictions,
forecasters, sales inventory. People are grim, but there are rarely any
incidents. Unfortunately, as I know by experience, most people would not get
out of debt after foreclosure. Many, way too many will become hard core
“clients” of ours later on
At noon we are having a lunch at the burger joint at Sunset. We
always get worst seats and worst service. People hate us; bad press, liberal
talk shows, heart bleeding reports about victims of the debt collectors took
the toll. Some guys couldn’t stand it and cracked, but it’s Ok with me. I can
handle the nasty looks; before I was transferred to West Hollywood, I didn’t
knew if I am getting bullet or paycheck at the end of the day…
After the lunch it’s a time for harder staff… While I drove to the
first address, Raimondo listened to the talk show at the radio, about a woman
who lost her whole family after debts were collected...
“Quit listening to this crap, son. You are at other side now” I
remember telling him, but he didn’t not switched it off, just put on headphones.
Everyone has own way to kill the strain.
The first case was at the quiet portion of Selby Avenue; green
loans, expensive cars, fancy wind-chimes at every door; oak, growing in front
of the wealthy looking house. It used to be the debtors property but bank took
it away, and now he was paying a rent to stay. Tall man in early 40ies was
sitting at the front porch, his head buried in his arms. I looked at the papers
-this gentleman, let’s call him Mr. Jones for a sake of privacy, had unpaid
rent, bad loan and unpaid child support, increased with collection costs -
which meant his wife has left him, and he was alone in the house…
The ambulance was already
here, quietly standing at the intersection outside of the view. We had to go
first, ambulance would go after us.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Jones, we
are from the department of collections, recovering your debt”. I said, approaching.
Raimondo, stayed in the car, covering me. Debtor hadn’t moved.
“I need call to my lawyer...
There must be mistake”
One more victim of lawyers I thought. When Supreme Court confirmed
that “Efficient Recovery Act” is constitutional, allowing recovering debts by
confiscating the organs for transplant, they hadn’t focused on the age factor. Obviously
organs lose value with age, and lawyers tried this card, delaying extractions for
years, so organs of their clients would become “useless”. Wrong strategy: sooner
or later debtors would run out of money for legal expense, but collection was
made anyway. Young, healthy people could pay off by losing an eye, or in a
worse case, a kidney. The older the person was, the less transplantable his
organs were - which meant taking more sophisticated staff like bone marrow or
blood plasma...
“You been warned in writing, I have a reception receipt here” I said,
but he kept clutching a straw:
“There is a stay-call my lawyer”
“I will dial him for you” I said. “What’s the number?”
Of course, secretary at the
law firm told me, that they don’t represent Mr. Jones any longer. So trivial...
Ambulance already rolled from around the corner towards the property,
with its door wide open. Jones kept arguing, and I was afraid that we might
have to use electric shocker to bring him down, but suddenly he stopped
resisting. Just walked alongside me, as a sleepwalker... We approached the ambulance;
where the male nurses rapidly grabbed him, pushed inside and shut the door.
We have to stay at the site until extraction is over, and confirm
that debtor was “returned to his residence or public hospital, if he was
evicted”. Even if vital organs were taken off, they never report the death at
the spot. Officially it is illegal to kill someone by the collection, but life
support would last only until the insurance pays…
Next case was few blocks south, close to Pico-Westwood intersection:
a condo with self made murals at the walls. The hipster looking “dude” with a
long gray hair, dressed in the psychedelic T-shirt, opened the door. He looked
exactly like a prototype debt dodger, but according to the itinerary the actual
debtor was 23 years old; he had unpaid student credit.
“Is mister Solana living here?” I asked after introducing myself
I am changing a name again of course. Man with long hair hesitated; and
then woman in the motley tunic came out from inside the house; I could not help
noticing her perfectly shaped body, thick wave of dark brown hair, golden outflow
of her skin...
“What do they want quierido.“ she
asked
“They want to take yours sons organs for transplant naranjita. To pay his student loan...
This is what they do now days...”
Woman began yelling at us, mixing Spanish words with English.
Suspecting the worse, I have sent off an alert message to the patrol cars in
the neighborhood. If this Mr. Solana would escape, all tracking devices would
be activated, and he would be caught at the nearest intersection...
“Wait, I pay you, I pay you” woman began repeating, after realizing
that attacking us would not help. .
Once case goes to us, only
the direct cash payment at the spot can stop the procedure. I looked at the injunction.
“You can pay me 134 thousand dollars in cash right now, ma-am?”
“Sure...But not right away-I... I need to call my bank”
“I can give you the half an
hour” I said. Sometime ago “LA weekly” reported infamous case of bankrupt Hollywood
actor, who demanded a delay when collectors came. They didn’t listen and took
his kidneys. Later on they discovered that guy had received unexpected
royalties and needed just few hours from the bank to precede the payment...
We stepped back, allowing her to make phone calls, but she argued
with her long haired spouse most of the time...Just as I expected there was no payment
after half an hour. Woman in the tunic was now crying non-stop, man kept
blocking a doorway. We always have a warrant to search a property. Time had run
out, so we prepared to move in for Mr. Solana.
I will remember until my last breath what’s happened next…
“Take me instead,” long hared man suddenly said, still blocking the
door way.
“Sir, you know we can’t do that. Pease let us in, we have a warrant”
Suddenly he took a gun from his pocket. My instincts hadn’t betrayed
me, and I was behind the cover in a second.
“Mister, please drop your weapon” I’ve tried to reason him, while
Ramondo was calling for back up.
“I am not intended to shoot.” he yelled back, and then took out a
mobile device; I have heard him making a statement on it’s camera... Saying
that he is intended to kill himself and donate his organs to pay his stepson’s
debts.
“I am sending the video to my lawyer... By email” he added…
“Don’t” I yelled, but before any of us could say raise a finger he
put the gun against his head, pulled a trigger and dropped down the stairs; woman
kneeling behind with screams. Young guy, possibly the Solano himself appeared
at the doorway but no one was paying attention to him any longer…
“This guy is rotten from inside” the ambulance supervisor whispered
to me when we took the long haired man’s body into the ambulance for
examination.”Kidneys, heart, lever –all of it. Too much drugs and alcohol... We
can take blood and… Retina maybe... But it would not be enough…”
I grabbed his hand, making sure he sees my gun...
“Make it enough! I am not going back there to double her... Their
misery. Make it enough!”
“What if ambulance supervisor files a complaint?” Redondo asked at
the way back
I just shrug my shoulders. What will be –will be… Sometimes man has
to break the rules. But it does not mean I was drawn back even a tiny bit. I
knew I would go to work tomorrow... And day after. To make sure that our
society is still running, someone got to do what we do. Someone has to make
sure that rules prevail-and all debts are paid...
THE END
(c) Nicholas Gabrichidze 2014
