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Nick was one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever met.
This song will forever remind me of him…
- 20th February
- 19th February
- 19th February
Asked by: Anonymous
- 19th February
(Note: This is really long and probably riddled with grammatical errors and typos. I don’t really give a fuck, it’s tumblr.)
On a late Sunday morning around the middle of January, you’ll go down to your car so you can grab your sunglasses before heading out for a leisurely walk. That’s when you’ll discover your designated parking spot is empty. Your heart’s gonna sink as you accept the fact that it finally happened.
You’ll then tweet about your missing car because it’s really fucking funny how you’re a 30-year-old college graduate unable to make monthly payments on a 2004 used VW Jetta with two missing hubcaps.
While checking favs, you’ll text your most pathetic friends and tell them about your missing car situation. One friend will suggest calling the police and telling them your car was stolen, so you give that a shot.
The police are more than happy to tell you your car was repossessed, not stolen. Your next call is to your credit union. They are closed because it’s a Sunday and banks are closed on Sundays. Maybe you would know that if you had any money.
At this time, you’ll take two .5 milligram Klonopins and spend the rest of the day in bed.
You’ll spend half of Monday on the phone with various customer service representatives at your credit union. Finally, you’ll be transferred to a guy named Romeo who explains the steps necessary to recover your precious Jetta.
Per Romeo, you will need all the money from your checking account, plus the 2 weeks of unemployment pay scheduled to hit your EDD debit card tomorrow. Once you’ve collected all the money you were planning to use for rent this month, take it down to the credit union, give it to someone there, and get your car back.
Since there’s nothing left to do until tomorrow’s EDD payment hits, you spend the rest of the day writing (on Klonopin).
Now that your unemployment money has arrived, you’re ready to visit the credit union, which is located in Torrance wherever the fuck that is. Before heading over, you call to confirm their hours. They close at 6pm — more than enough time! OMG you’re so relieved this ordeal is almost over, but that’s because you’re a fucking moron who has no clue her week is going to get wayyyy worse.
Your ex-fiance reluctantly offers to drive you to Torrance. You decline because even though you have pretty much no money, you still have a tiny shred of dignity.
You decide to use up that remaining shred of dignity by taking advantage of Lyft’s first-time user discount. You’ll ride shotgun in a pink mustachioed Kia Sorento. You’ll actually enjoy the 30-minute drive, up until the moment you learn that your Lyft driver has more IMDB credits than you. Fortunately, you’ll arrive at your destination before this information can really sink in.
Once inside the credit union, you’ll pay your balance and get your car back, just like Romeo said!!
Just kidding, they don’t have your car. They never had it. Oh, Romeo!
You will, however, receive the next best thing to your car — the phone number of an impound lot where your car is currently located. (FYI: They won’t give you the lot’s address or any additional information, no matter how fake-nice you ask.)
Anyway, you’ll call the impound lot from the little credit union lobby. The straight up bitch who answers the phone will angrily inform you the lot is closing in one minute and that you need to call back tomorrow and schedule an appointment to retrieve your car.
Naturally, you’ll begin to cry as you tell her about how you don’t live nearby, and can’t afford to take another Lyft home, and don’t have anyone who can give you a ride now or tomorrow, and you can’t come tomorrow anyway because you have a meeting, and that you just really need your car now. Don’t worry, eventually you’ll realize that fucking bitch hung up on you awhile ago.
You’ll continue to cry in the credit union lobby about what seems to be bigger than just car and money issues until they ask you to leave. You’ll then Google Map the public transportation route home. You must walk half a mile, take two busses and a train, then walk two more miles. As you make your way to the first bus stop, your phone dies. Classic.
Once you arrive at the first bus stop, you’ll ask the least scary guy waiting if it’s the correct bus to take to Hollywood. He will just nod and blow smoke in your face. You’ll wait 45-minutes and watch 3 out-of-service busses pass you before the the first bus arrives.
You’ll sit up front and ask the bus driver to let you know when to transfer to the next bus even though he’s busy hitting the passenger sitting next to you. The bus driver talks about his loneliness and how he’s looking for a Christian woman he can play footsy with at the end of the day. (Apparently, footsy is bus driver for fuck.) At some point, he’ll finally shut the fuck up about his empty personal life and tell you to get off at the next stop.
It’s a short wait until the next bus arrives and takes you to Downtown LA. The familiar territory helps you breathe a sigh of relief. You transfer to the metro, take the red line to Hollywood and Highland, exit and walk home to West Hollywood. Back at your apartment, you immediately regret not stopping at Chipotle — it was right on the way. You go to bed feeling hungry and sorry for yourself.
You call the impound lot first thing in the morning. You get their answering service. You find out the lot is only open between the hours of 12pm and 3pm. Because you have a meeting at 3:30pm, you decide to get your car tomorrow just to be on the safe side.
This decision results in you reluctantly asking your unemployed ex-fiance to drive you to the meeting, which he does because he believes in you as a writer — and has nothing else to do.
It’s a great meeting. They love you and want to work with you on a project in the future. And, of course, you know everyone says that — even if they don’t mean it, but it seemed like they really meant it.
After the meeting, you’ll wait for your ex-fiance to pick you up outside of a 7-11 a few blocks down.
This is it! This is the day you will finally be reunited with your Jetta!
You call the impound lot right when they open AT NOON. You talk to that same bitch. She tells you they haven’t received a claim release from your credit union and that she can’t help you without a claim release. Click.
You call the credit union and talk to four different people, all of whom know very little about claim releases. You hang up and call the impound lot again. Before you’re able to explain your situation, they put you on hold for eight minutes. Finally bitch face comes back on the line and tells you they found your claim release. You suspect they had it the entire time, but whatever.
She tells you the soonest appointment they have available to get your car back is on Monday. She then lets you know you’ll be charged an additional $25 per day until it’s picked up — in addition to the $200 in cash you must pay to get it released.
You tell her you gave all your money to the credit union and that there’s no way you can’t afford the daily charges. Amazingly, she manages to squeeze you in today. All you’ll need to do is stop by the police station downtown and pay a $15 repo fee because you’ll need that receipt to the lot along with the $200 in cash to get your car.
Once again, your ex-fiance is kind enough to drive you - even though he seems annoyed and not into it. First, he takes you to the police station downtown. You run in and pay your fee. It’s relatively painless. He then takes you to the impound lot, which isn’t even in Torrance by the way — it’s in Compton.
To show your gratitude for all of his passive-aggressive driving, you give your ex-fiance 4 Adderall XR capsules before he abandons you in the most terrifying industrial wasteland you have ever seen.
As close as you are to getting your car back at this point, you will seriously consider abandoning your car at the lot forever. That’s because the world’s biggest cunt receptionist failed to mention that you’d be waiting for several hours ON FOLDING CHAIRS OUTSIDE.
You won’t be able to leave because they could call your name at any time and there’s no restroom, or vending machines, or nearby Starbucks. There’s just a driveway filled with uncomfortable folding chairs and other irresponsible, miserable poor people. It goes without saying, your phone will die within the first hour. You won’t be able to focus on the book you brought because you’re freezing and uncomfortable, so you’ll just end up closing your eyes and thinking about how if your parents knew how severely you fucked up by falling behind on your car payments, they would tell you to quit trying to be a writer and go back to working in human resources. You will tear up, if not full-on cry at this thought.
Then, several hours later, they’ll call your name. Before pulling your car around, they’ll let you know that all the contents from your car have been emptied into trash bags and you’ll have to pay extra to get them back. You once again plead — you only have enough money for your car. The guys at the impound lot will then go out of their way to let you know they’re doing you a HUGH FAVOR by giving you all your belongings for FREE. You thank him as he hands you your keys.
After a long day and an even longer week, you and your Jetta will be home free, where you’ll be stuck indefinitely — or until you have money again.