Thursday, October 07, 2010

Fucking with Jack

There's this guy out at work that I just absolutley hate as does pretty much everybody else. He's just got one of those personalities that makes you wanna firebomb his house, you know? But I gotta work with him so I just keep it under control. At work, that is.
Let's call him Jack because, well, that's his name.
About 4-5 years ago we were working together and things were slow so I was standing just inside a trailer on the dock and started laughing while holding my cell phone. Him being the nosey fucker he is came over and wanted to know what was so funny. I told him I had just downloaded a new ringtone that was funnier than shit and told him to call me so he could check it out. I tell him my number, he calls, my regular ringtone comes through, I tell him I must've fucked something up and apologize, shrugging my shoulders. But now I had his phone number because he was too fucking stupid to block it before calling me.
I go home that night, go to http://www.zabasearch.com/ and get his home address. Now I got his personal information. What am I going to do with it? I don't have a clue yet. The only thing I do know is that I'm going to sit on it until he forgot he called me.
Fast forward a few months. It's Christmas time and the parking lots are full. I don't know what made me think of this but it ain't bad at all.
I sit down and write a bunch of notes in different color inks on different papers. They read:

"Hey, I hit your car and I don't have insurance. I can see the damage is less than a couple of hundred bucks so if you'll cantact me, I can just pay you off. My name is Jack M****s, my number is 555-2345 and I live at 234 D******* St, Salida. Please don't call the cops, I may have warrants too."

Then I just troll the Wal-Mart parking lot and look for cars that are so beat up you couldn't tell new damage from old damage and leave one of those notes on the windshield. If the registration is expired, it's an added bonus. Then the tweeker that owns the car comes out, sees this note and sees dollar signs.
He calls Jack up, Jack tells the guy to fuck off and then answers the door a little while later to some pissed off crankster that ain't slept in 3 days wanting some money to pour down the hole in his arm.

The Jack comes to work the next day ranting and raving about some motherfucker trying to strongarm him out of a couple of hundred bucks while I'm sitting there looking all innocent.

I think Jack got called a couple of times that first year, once or twice the next year and I can't tell you if he's still getting any, but I still spread some Christmas cheer every year - after I call him from a blocked number to make sure it's still current.