Think about that for a moment.
That's coming from me.
For someone who has been poor, literally lived next door to a crack house and is fairly familiar with the ugly side of humanity that's a telling statement. By no means have i had a hard life. On the contrary, I've been quite blessed. But when faced with the stark poverty and abject misery of the clientele of the rent-to-own industry I was disquieted and humbled beyond measure.
I purposely named the store the way I did for two reasons:
1) I see no point in naming names because my research has led me to conclude my experiences were not due to one company failing to act responsibly or ethically, but rather an inherent character flaw of the entire industry
2) A friend of mine is a manager at a local branch and he helped me out in a time of need. I refuse to pay him back in Googlejuice that could any way lead back to him.
To start the day I would be assigned various maintenance tasks until it was time for the first round of phone calls (more on phone calls below). For example, one day I was greeted with a refrigerator that had been returned the day before. The person had rented it for two months and then called to have it returned. I was assured this was a standard practice. The customer rents a piece of merchandise and then proceeds to treat it with little regard (or abuse it outright) until they tire of it or can no longer afford the $40.00 per week charge. At this point, one of us would drive to the residence and load it up and wait for them to return in a week or two to rent it again. After we had cleaned it, of course. Some customers did not even feign pretense and just told us to come pick up the items because they were filthy. Which brings me back to the fridge....
It had sat overnight unplugged but the smell that rolled out as I opened the door implied it might have been weeks since it had seen power and that the customer had neglected to remove perishables during that period. The inside was stained a rainbow of swamp colors.
Blacks.
Browns.
Greens.
Some slimy to the touch. Some hard and chiseled.
The first point of order was to douse the interior with Frebreeze and open the back door. After airing it for fifteen minutes or so I was able to contemplate my attack. One hour, two rolls of paper towel, a bottle of Windex and several pairs of latex gloves and some Goof Off later I emerged from the back room victoriously presenting my friend with a fridge I would have been proud to call my own.
In college.
At that point it was rolled right back on to the floor to be rented again.
After these duties were done it was time to make the first round of phone calls. The calls are being made to customers who are one day or more overdue on their rent. If we reached the person we tried to get them to come in or make arrangements to meet them somewhere so we could get the payment. If not, we leave a message. About 30% of the time, these numbers no longer worked but we had to try them anyway. One time, a co-worker caught a customer being clever. The number rang and then dumped to the "We're sorry, but the number you're trying to reach..." message when you dial a disconnected number. Just as my colleague was about to hang up, he heard the beep. Clever Customer had somehow gotten the "Disconnected" message as his voicemail greeting. Awesome.
Making these phone calls was usually pedestrian: extract a promise of payment that day and move on. At this point it was time to make deliveries and pick-ups. Load the van full of furniture and then take it all over the county. Make your deliveries. Haul 500-pound projection screen televisions up three darkened flights of stairs that are too narrow because the tenement was designed in the 40's. Put bunk beds together, sometimes with no instructions or missing parts because these things had become lost over a series of rentals.
The worst part about this was going in to people's homes. If I know I have people coming over I clean, even though my place is kept up pretty well. These folks, though? They've been staring at the wrong side of up so long they no longer care. Their humility and sense of pride has been worn down so far nothing matters anymore. I recall dropping off a portable dishwasher deep in the hood one day. The yard was small but choked with weeds, garbage and discarded toys. The house was largish for the area and probably dated to the early part of the 20th Century. We were led into the house by a little boy and were greeted with dead stares from the occupants. The wooden floors had standing dirt and peeling stain strips on them. A morbidly obese woman sat at a kitchen table buried in clothes, full ashtrays and discarded fast food wrappers. We wheeled the dishwasher into the dining room but were stopped from going in to the kitchen. I could see the dishes piling out of the sinks and had no desire to go further. A man there said the dishwasher was fine in the dining room. When we explained he needed a water source he thought for a moment and then retrieved a less-than-new garden hose from the yard and hooked it up between the kitchen sink and the dishwasher.
I recall setting up a sectional that took up 75% of the usable space in a living room. I've seen children under five sleeping on cold floors so the adults can sit on the couch and watch the 50-inch flat screen. 50 inches. Invariably, no one in these households held a job with significant income.
What's that, you say? How could they afford these incredibly overpriced luxury items on zero income? Here's a quick quiz...
What payment types are accepted at Lease-Our-Shit?
a) cash
b) check
c) major credit card
d) money order
e) cashier's check
f) food stamps
g) all of the above
Give up?
The answer is G.
See, Michigan, and several other states (I don't recall which at this time) allow food stamps to be used towards not just food, but for items classified as "essentials". Things like stoves or refrigerators. Therefore, Lease-Our-Shit has the financial mechanisms in place to accept government subsidized payments. From there, nobody asks what the money was used for and nobody reports it. Your outrage is correct. Your tax dollars are helping people with no jobs watch Blu-ray on their HDTV.
Awesome, huh? I was nauseous when I found out.
I had a customer once who quite clearly had mental issues. Ok, I had several of those, but I only have photographic evidence one one of them.
This was a very nice lady in her early 60's in an decent townhouse. Her issue? Pack rat. Now, I've had relatives who were pack rats and I fight the urge myself. But this, woman dove face first into her psychosis. As you can see in the pictures, the kitchen is completely inaccessible, stuffed with boxes of clothes and lamps.
My god, the lamps.
Her whole house was like this. The pictures are blurry and a bit dark as I was taking these photos surreptitiously.
When we're out on these runs, we make pick-ups. Sometimes these pick-ups are unscheduled. What you might call a repossession.
Feeling bad about yourself? Try repo'ing a bed and all the furniture in the house while a nine-year old girl stares at you uncomprehendingly and with hate in her eyes. All because mommy tried to live a lifestyle she couldn't afford. Puts your life into perspective. I was once told that if we were trying to make a repossession and no one was home to try the doors. If we could do it without anyone seeing, we were authorized to enter the dwelling and steal our goods back. I never did that and the first time I'd have been told to I'd have walked.
After a few hours of these adventures it's back to the store for the afternoon phone calls, this time calling them and their first reference. Sometimes it's a friend, sometimes it's a parent and sometimes it's their employer. After 30 or so calls, its time to load up and get back on the road to repeat the earlier events of the day. Then, back home again in the evening calls and the last run of the day. At that point, you've been all over the county, had a cardio and bodybuilding workout and harassed some ninety people on the phone demanding your money. Hopefully you had time for lunch! Repeat four more times at ten hours a shift and have a couple days off. I kept this up for three months. By the end I had no social life and I felt pretty awful about the work I was doing. I cried when I got a new job offer.
Never again.
That's all I can think of for now. I rambled a bit but I expect you have a greater understanding of the industry, how it works and why it's a cancer. A predator.
A cancerous predator. Hmm.
Yes, an eight-foot tall intergalactic dreadlocked asshole with vagina dentata for a face . That describes perfectly the rent-to-own industry.
