the other day while watching some junky tv, i saw a commercial for a show called Repo Man, or something to that effect. the ad itself was unmemorable and left me with no desire to waste any time watching it. but with a flash, it resurrected long forgotten memories of my days as a repo girl.
1995: innocent 18 year old amanda arrives in new zealand ready for adventure, armed with not much more than a backpack and work permit. i met some girls in the hostel and we decided to rent a room in a house together while looking for jobs. i scoured the classifieds and pounded the pavement, walkiing into every little restaurant and bar i passed. but i was fresh out of high school with no experience other than taco bell. i did of course embellish my work history with entirely ficticious jobs, knowing my references would never be checked. i got a few shifts in the kitchen at a late night cafe, until they told me i didn't make the nachos fast enough. i got a shift at a pub, until they found out i was underage. i got half a shift at some hoity toity restaurant but was quickly tossed out when i dropped a plate. and a smattering of other inconsistent odd jobs.
so when my landlord offered me $30 to go with him on a repo run, i jumped at it. all i had to do was tolerate the creep for a one way ride and then drive his car back so he could take the repossessed vehicle. it was easy money. i never saw too much of the actual repossessing as i usually parked several cars back so as not to be detected. sometimes it went off without a hitch, a few times there was yelling and cursing and doors slamming. once something was thrown at him and he went nuts kicking at their door. little me just stayed motionless with the car doors locked. the rides out were no better. between his sleazy sexual innuendo and his enraged expletive filled rants (about anything and everything), i was beginning to think it might not be worth the $30 a pop.
luckily i didn't have to do it for too long. eventually i got a job at a nearby hotel and was more than happy to take the 6am shifts if it meant not needing to work for my cuckoo landlord anymore. i ignored his filthy and inappropriate comments on the few occasions we crossed paths, and tried to shut out the screaming matches and threats of violence between him and his equally wacko girfriend. it was a terribly unpleasant place to live, but super cheap and just blocks from my work!
of course, it improved greatly after we killed him.
but that's a story for another day.
1995: innocent 18 year old amanda arrives in new zealand ready for adventure, armed with not much more than a backpack and work permit. i met some girls in the hostel and we decided to rent a room in a house together while looking for jobs. i scoured the classifieds and pounded the pavement, walkiing into every little restaurant and bar i passed. but i was fresh out of high school with no experience other than taco bell. i did of course embellish my work history with entirely ficticious jobs, knowing my references would never be checked. i got a few shifts in the kitchen at a late night cafe, until they told me i didn't make the nachos fast enough. i got a shift at a pub, until they found out i was underage. i got half a shift at some hoity toity restaurant but was quickly tossed out when i dropped a plate. and a smattering of other inconsistent odd jobs.
so when my landlord offered me $30 to go with him on a repo run, i jumped at it. all i had to do was tolerate the creep for a one way ride and then drive his car back so he could take the repossessed vehicle. it was easy money. i never saw too much of the actual repossessing as i usually parked several cars back so as not to be detected. sometimes it went off without a hitch, a few times there was yelling and cursing and doors slamming. once something was thrown at him and he went nuts kicking at their door. little me just stayed motionless with the car doors locked. the rides out were no better. between his sleazy sexual innuendo and his enraged expletive filled rants (about anything and everything), i was beginning to think it might not be worth the $30 a pop.
luckily i didn't have to do it for too long. eventually i got a job at a nearby hotel and was more than happy to take the 6am shifts if it meant not needing to work for my cuckoo landlord anymore. i ignored his filthy and inappropriate comments on the few occasions we crossed paths, and tried to shut out the screaming matches and threats of violence between him and his equally wacko girfriend. it was a terribly unpleasant place to live, but super cheap and just blocks from my work!
of course, it improved greatly after we killed him.
but that's a story for another day.
