Today, Greg Wayne (from a collection agency) called. Why do they do that fake personalized shit? I find his voice intolerable. It makes me want to vomit and feel depressed most days, but today it just made me angry. He called as I was pulling into a gas station. It made it all extra stressful. The whole day had already worn me out.
Condecendedouche: “It’s Greg Wayne. Collecting for Radiology of Indianapolis?”
Me in a super-shitty tone : “Yeah, I know.”
Darth Vader of concern-trolling disappointed sighing: “We still haven’t received -”
Me, now breathing fire: “Because I didn’t send it yet. You are the last item on my list.”
Greg, still a condecendedouche (you just can’t wash that off): “Well when will you send the check?”
Me, annoyed and tired, flipping out about how dirty the windshield was: “Later. Maybe today, maybe not. Bye.”
Then I hung up and blocked that number. There are laws about how much they can call you, dudes and dudettes. I figure there’s a chance that would increase the amount of his soul-crushing voice I have to hear. I think they count on that.
Anyone else get totally bonkers in their stomachs, heads, or whatever when collectors call?
takethesepills said: I didn’t have insurance when I got in the accident. I just signed up and because of a pre-existing, nothing is covered for six months. The thousands be piling up! I had a moment where I had to pick between school and bills and I picked school. Yes.
yourcrimeswrittenallovermybody posted this