[Disclaimer: This article is satire, or what we used to call "fake news" before actual fake news started poisoning the political discourse!]
When you talk about the economy being bad, you usually think this is great news for debt collectors. More people defaulting on their loans means more phone calls, and more phone calls means more bonus money in the pocket.
Unfortunately, not all debt collectors are good at squeezing blood out of a stone, and therefore, their bonus money just doesn’t exist. No place is this more evident than Davidsburg, Indiana, a tiny little hamlet just outside Evansville. There exists Acme Accounts Collectibles, which happens to be the largest employer in town.
While most of the employees of Acme make a pretty good living scaring the living daylights out of debtors by threatening to do everything but take their first born if they don’t pay up, there are several employees who can’t find it in their hearts to tell the little old ladies that their husbands are spending the bread and egg money at the nearby race track and they (Acme) are going to share that information with the local authorities if the debts aren’t paid toot suite.
One employee, in particular, Sherilee Hoskins, is just one of those bleeding hearts who is caught in an awful catch 22 of the debt collection kind. Since she finds it hard to twist the nipples of the bare-chested (a term used by many hardened debt collectors), her own financial situation suffers. In order to make ends meet each month, she is required to contact herself two, three, sometimes even four times a day and call herself every name in the book.
“I’m just so tired of calling myself a mooch,” said Sherilee, “but in order to put food on the table, this parasite has to toe the hoe or whatever the hell they make me say to myself.” She then added, “The worst part about it is when I hang up on myself. I hate when that happens,” she said tearfully.
There are others just like Sherilee who are in the same boat and being told to call their own cell phones between the other calls and give themselves hell.
“Some days it’s easy,” says Will Forabuck. “I feel so beat up just having to yell at other people that I start thinking, ‘yeah, you are a drain on society or you don’t deserve to breathe the same air as everyone else,’ just basically the same things we all are told to say to the other deadbeats, and it starts to all blend together. But,” says Forabuck, “if I want to keep driving around in my new Silverado, this freeloader has to be a lot harder on himself.”
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