The Workers Are Going Home - Poem

Sometimes I want assurance from people who I shouldn’t get it from.

Like people who want my money.

I want them to type to me that it is okay that I am behind on a few payments.

Type it.

I am not talking to them about this.

I want to feel as though they care that I got a promotion, and my life on track.

Do they?

They don’t even have the time to talk to me, what do you think?

I get scared when I hear the word collections.

I don’t know why.

I never had a nightmare where some monster was chasing me, and then when he catches me tells me that I have to pay for something that I forget about.

That never happens.

So why do I tremble when I hear a company called Sun Radius Area Oval Parenthesis Cylinder Planet Inc. sent me a letter?

I have until a certain date to pay off whatever amount I already knew that I owed.

What are they going to do really?

It is not like I am trying to get away with anything.

I am putting my money towards the payment as soon as I get paid.

So what do I fear?

I don’t know.

The boogie man sometimes comes not in an outfit or even a person but of an invisible feeling you give yourself.

A thought in your head that only you came up with that is now greater than you ever imagined it to be.

The truth is that the guy on the other side doesn’t even know my name past the name he sees on file.

He needed a few minutes to look up my account information.

He properly even pronounces my name wrong.

I am one of many people that he has spoken to today about their credit card problems.

And yet, I wanted his approval.

I wanted the stranger to tell me that I was not wrong with my money expenses, only that I was hit on tough times.

A guy whose name I don’t know didn’t see at all, and just learned about my account information merely seconds ago is the one person then that I seek clarification from.

If I tell him my story and get him to understand who and what I am, then maybe he can feel for me, and that makes me feel better about myself.

Maybe…

Of course, the guy didn’t give me any of that.

We scheduled to get my account up to date, and that was that.

No drama.

No fuss.

Only a few letters to be typed.

I had to give him my account number, the date, and the amount.

He didn’t even type much when I told him I have been trying to get my account back on track.

Only, “Is there anything else that we can do here?”

I am reaching out to this stranger, hoping that his words can give me some help in my own fragile ego and shattered sense in the world, and he is ready to help the next customer on line, whose account is past due.

I am only a customer to this man.

Another name on the screen has a problem with his account that needs to be addressed.

He is as blind about my life as I am about his.

I guess that is why you never go to your banker for health advice.

You never ask a cop for money advice.

And you never, never ever, ask a politician morality advice.

They will lead you down the wrong path, and you will be further from the answer you wanted.

Left stranded as the person walks away, not concerned about the lack of direction they gave you.

Did I say take a fund out? I meant get some rest. My mistake.

When I said follow the law, I really meant that you should live below your means. I get those phrases confused sometimes.

Did I say to vote for you? I meant to follow the golden rule. That is on me really.

I am afraid that someone will come to my house in the middle of the night and threaten me because of the missed payments I accrued.

 “Are you (he mispronounces my name)? We are sending you off to jail for not making a few payments on that account.”

I mean, that just doesn’t happen.

But I fear it, as though my neighbors are being hauled out into the middle of the street, calling out against the tyranny being struck down upon us all for being behind on credit card payments.

Once that happened to me.

Kind of.

It was in the middle of the night.

My dad came into the room, and told me that there was someone knocking on the door and he didn’t know what to do.

He wanted me to be there, as I am younger than him, so I can fend off anyone trying to break into our house.

I got out of bed, not really sure what was going on.

My parents are scared as they think someone is there to kill us.

I am not sure what to do, as I am not really a good fighter, but it looks like if something happens I am the guy up.

I call the police, as I think we are getting robbed.

Someone opened the door, and I saw the person I was to confront.

It was a driver to tow my car away for debts.

The woman was in a wheelchair and acted like she was in the job because that was just what her family did.

“You are late on payments.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, still half-asleep.

She then clarified that I had not made a payment in three months.

“Then who the hell have I been paying?” I asked again, still half-asleep.

“I don’t want your car.”

She told us.

As she took it.

I mean, I guess she was right, as we got it back.

After many phone calls and money lost.

People are fine with taking the little money that you have and then acting as though they didn’t take anything from you.

As though you are doing them a favor.

Thanks.

Like I should be grateful that my account is up to date.

And she didn’t almost scare my parents to death and give me trauma that I will have for the rest of my life.

The guy on the other side for my card and the woman in the wheelchair don’t care about my story.

They are only doing their jobs.

That is how they look at it.

There are rules to follow.

I didn’t follow them.

There are things that happen to people who do not follow those rules.

One of those things is happening to me.

And don’t even get me started on the cop with how he handled the entire situation.

I don’t know what the hell he was even doing there when my car got taken away.

“We are not responsible for this. You have to speak to your car dealer.”

I feel like that is the opposite of what cops do at that time.

Mind you, I am in my boxers and tank top, my parents are scared to death, as they thought we were being robbed, and there is a woman in a wheelchair taking my car away.

The cop though, had no part in it.

The guy probably didn’t even write down the event.

He was one of those cops that is one because he thought it would be easier than it really is.

He wants to help but also not die.

That is better than how another cop treated me once.

I got pulled over for speeding and I don’t really remember what I said to the guy, but all I know is that the cop gave me a packet of tickets when we were done.

That cop was a cop you want to avoid.

The type who wants to prove that he is in control and knows what he is doing.

I am a felon in his eyes, and I need to be put in my place.

He threw the book at me.

Technically, it was a packet of tickets, but you get my point.

So the cop at my house when my car got repossessed could have been an asshole out to put me away…

I will take the indifferent, yet gentle cop, over the uptight over-ambitious cop any day of the week.

Sure, the first cop won’t help me, but he certainly won’t hurt me either.

What did the woman in the wheelchair, who didn’t want my car, take the car for exactly?

Apparently when I was making payments for the car, I was sending the money to the wrong account, and nobody told me, until the woman in the wheelchair showed up and took it.

Yeah, that is a thing that happens to people.

They make payments the entire time, and then there are other people who are to enforce laws on them for not making payments.

Collections….

It sounds like a bad word.

Like Area 51 sounds like a place where mystery happens.

You never want to deal with people in collections, because I am not sure if there are people over there.

They may have the same DNA and body types as you and me, but how they behave is as though they are okay with seeing people suffer.

She didn’t want my car but was more than happy with taking it.

When that stuff happens, people tell me that I am a good guy.

As though they are not trying to take my money.

On the one hand, I believe them.

I am a nice guy. I mean well.

Most who meet me will say that I have a good approach and that they can see I am a decent fellow.

On the other hand, I think they are lying.

They are only saying that to make me feel comfortable with them.

They call everyone a good guy, as that is apart of their tactic to accomplishing their task.

If you tell someone that they are nice, they may treat you that way, which is better than not being treated that way.

Yeah, that is a good piece of advice if I ever gave it.

The real lesson here is that there is bullshit in this world that you will have to deal with, and there is nothing you can do about it.

No matter how prepared you are or think you are, life will always throw something at you that makes you say, “What in the hell was that?”

What do you do then?

I am not sure, honestly.

But I can definitely say that seeking friendship from an online stranger and arguing about your car being towed away are not the right answers.