My Credit Score is 847

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
You can see it in their eyes.

Submitted: August 20, 2015

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Submitted: August 20, 2015

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If the bank had just loaned me the three grand for the used truck like I asked, none of the rest of this stuff would have happened.

Never mind I had an account with the bank through almost four years of college.  Never mind I had not written a single bad check.  And I had a job lined up for after graduation.But the credit manager explained that since I had never borrowed money before, he wouldn’t be able to help me.  Then he laughed and said, “Well, even if you had borrowed money somewhere else and defaulted on it, I would have offered you the loan.  But we don’t work with people who haven’t been vetted first.”

So I went from his office to the teller, closed my account, and walked out with $51 in my pocket.  Not enough shekels for a set of wheels.  I didn’t notice the short guy with sunglasses.  He must have been in the lobby while I was giving the manager a piece of my mind.

He introduced himself as Larry.  Told me he was in the leveraged finance industry.  He had a job opening for a security analyst.  After I worked the first customer with him I was able to translate those fancy terms into English.  Larry was a loan shark and I was his new enforcer.

I’m not even the violent type, but as Larry explained, his customers were lowlifes and they were terrified of him.  Think Joe Pesci.  Between Larry’s fearsome charisma, and me towering overhead, those schmucks didn’t have a chance.  No matter how big they were, not one of them ever tried to fight back.  Some carried weapons.  They always stayed pocketed.

It was always the same.  The loser didn’t have the money.  Then I would push him against a wall and Larry would do his best to talk me out of killing him.  That was our shtick.  I was crazy, no telling what I would do if Larry wasn’t around to keep me in check.

I could tell by the look in the loser’s eyes when he was ready to cough up whatever money he really had.  They always had some.  But never enough to pay off the debt completely.  My boss was telling the truth.  His customers really were stupid.  He had already had been nicknamed Larry the Loan Shark.  I became known as Sargent Serge.

Even though I was one semester away from graduation, I dropped out of college.  I was busy earning a PhD in human relationships.  Larry was my major professor.  I don’t gamble but I can tell when those poker players on TV are bluffing.  Even if they are wearing those reflective aviator shades. 

I worked for Larry for almost two years.  All things must pass.  Sometimes violently.  One day I showed up at Larry’s office and the door was ajar.  Not a good sign.  Larry was nowhere to be found.  Instead I found drops of blood on the floor.  I decided I needed a vacation.

A couple of times Larry had taken me to his favorite getaway in the woods.  It was a hunting lodge owned by a friend.  The gentleman was elderly and rarely visited.  I figured Larry would be there, or he was dead.

Turns out there was a third option.  When I got to the lodge, there was a letter with my name on the envelope, on the kitchen counter.  Larry had left the country.  He had a disagreement with a business associate in one of his other ventures.  He said if I found any blood, don’t worry, it wasn’t his.

He also said he had to travel fast so he was leaving me some cash.  When I opened the foot locker, in bundles of $100 bills, there was 10 million dollars.  I got lightheaded and curled up on the floor in the fetal position for a few minutes.  I stopped short of sucking my thumb.

But I rebounded quickly.  I decided I needed to put even more distance between me and anything associated with Larry.  Except for the foot locker, of course.

It was easy to assume a new identity.  There are homeless folks out there with social security numbers.  You can buy things with a stack of $100 bills.

In another state, under another identity, I slowly laundered the cash through the stock market and real estate.  The economy was booming then.  I kept buying, and kept selling at a profit.  If you act naturally, people will not give a second thought to a guy carrying a briefcase filled with cash.  The limousine and the driver started things off with the right image.  There is something about a man in gloves, a uniform, and a spiffy cap.  The skills I learned from Larry closed the deal every time.

When my net worth reached $650 million, I engaged in a hostile takeover of the bank where the loan manager dissed me.  After I became the majority owner, my first act was to fire him.  I gave him ten minutes to clean out his office.  My driver helped him carry stuff to his car.

My second act was to sell the bank stock as fast as I could.  I lost a lot of money but that was okay with me.  I didn’t want anything to do with the banking industry.  I just wanted to see the look on that guy’s face when I fired him.

Then I gave the money to charity.  All except for $6340.  I calculated I needed $3340 for one semester of college.  And I bought a sweet 7 year old Isuzu pickup truck with the other three grand.  I figured that made me all square with Karma.


© Copyright 2017 Serge Wlodarski. All rights reserved.

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