Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Dear J&J Towing

Author's Note: I posted an abridged version of this letter as a Yelp review for the company in question.  See it here.  

Dear J&J Towing,

On Saturday, April 16, 2011, you towed my Honda Fit out of the parking lot of an apartment complex on Riverside Drive.  It had a very nice sweater in it.  It wasn't cashmere but it was nice, and it accentuated my arms.  You may think, "How could it possibly have accentuated your arms?" to which I can only reply, "By making them look sexier than they are."  I had taken it off because I was going to a crawfish boil, and I didn't want to ruin it because it was a nice sweater and it accentuated my arms.

The crawfish boil itself was fairly fun, though you should know that I'm not usually a very social person.  I had just had a Big Red, though, so I was caffeinated and caffeine has always lowered my inhibitions in a way that alcohol never really could.  So I was more talkative than usual, which was probably nice for my friends.

I might add that this was my first social outing after having lost my job a few days prior.


When I discovered my car was missing later that evening, I called your company immediately.  It is the way of the universe that you never see the "Tow Away Zone" signs until after your car has been towed away from the tow away zone.  I felt no particular animosity towards your company for performing its intended duty.  Besides, I was still in a state of grief.  Once you're curled up on the ground, you stop feeling the kicks after a while.  I called once and was informed that my car was not yet at the lot so I should call back in a half hour or so.  I did.  And then I was put on hold for at least fifteen minutes.

I remember the length because I was watching a cat as it played with a dead bird, swatting its body and nipping at its broken wings.  I even remember the exact words I was thinking: "You're nothing but a predator."  I do not mean this to be a strained metaphor for the way you (the cat) were treating me (the dead bird).  Admittedly, it kind of worked out that way.  Perhaps this is the only meaningful difference between writers and non-writers - lucky metaphors.  I swear that I am not embellishing any of the events of that night.  This thing with the cat really did happen.  That being said, I don't want to say I'm above authorial flourishes like that.  I once tried to end a screenplay with a rhyming couplet - written in iambic pentameter, naturally.  The iambic pentameter didn't end up happening but the screenplay itself was okay, I thought.  I don't know.  It's hard to gauge your own shit.

I hung up.  I was too emotionally exhausted to have to deal with it that night, and so I walked home.  This was a mistake, as it ended up taking me a full hour.  I didn't think it'd be so far.  Also, I was wearing boat shoes which, as you may infer from their name, are not suited for hour-long treks through sketchy neighborhoods, and so my feet were quite uncomfortable by the end of it.  I suppose this isn't something you should be held responsible for.  I tried to flag down taxis as I walked but not a single one stopped.  I think it's a confidence thing.  Flagging a taxi is like picking up a girl.  You just have to believe you're going to get it.  But, unfortunately, the caffeine had worn off by that point so my confidence was undoubtedly wavering.

The next day, I called your company again only to discover that you apparently did not have my car.  I called 311, and they did not have any record of my car being towed at all.  The only logical conclusion was that it was stolen.

When it was eventually discovered in your lot more than a month later, the only response was, "It just slipped through the system."  By that time, my wonderful insurance company had cut me a check and I had gotten a replacement vehicle.  The Fit was no longer mine.

I did, incidentally, get to see it one last time to retrieve my possessions.  Here is a photo from that day:

Post-Sweater Retrieval


There was evidence that the lock had been messed with, and all of the items inside the car were thrown onto the floor.  This included all the contents of the glove compartment.  I can't imagine why you felt that was okay.

I cried on my way home.  This isn't even a particularly special fact.  I've cried a lot these past few months, though in my defense I've always had proper provocation.  This was a good cry, at least.  It felt cathartic.  I won't dwell on this moment.  It makes me too sad and makes me sound too pathetic.

There is a deep injustice here.  How is it that a single clerical error on your company's part could result in the total loss of a vehicle?  It's a neat trick, that.  Your mediocre typing abilities have essentially given you a teleporter.  Press a button, and a car disappears.  I think, if anything, this incident is proof that as thrilling as it would be to live in a world full of teleporters, the human species as a whole is not ready for button pressing with actual molecular consequences.

It isn't right.  It isn't right that there is nothing I can do but complain.

But I've grown.  I mean this in the same way my aging aunt means it when she says it with such fatigue in her voice at Christmas, kneading her legs as if doing so will bring back some of their spring.  I've grown these past few months and I am a calmer, humbler person because of the modest emotional traumas I have undergone.  Or perhaps I've grown weaker; too tired to put up a fight, too tired to get mad over every injustice in the world.

I want to be mad.  That's the thing.  I want to be mad at you.  I don't know where that anger went, and a part of me misses it, wants to wield it as a sword in a full-fledged attack on your business.  But I can't do it.

All I can think about is who the "J's" are in your business.  Two men in their forties, maybe, who had decided they were tired of working for other people who had neither the vision nor empathic ability to understand their true worth.  Frustrated beyond words, taking their anger home with them, their kids well fed but unhappy.  I can see the day that the spark of the idea was struck, how they couldn't sleep that night because they kept thinking, "What if this works?  What if this really works?"

Or maybe J&J are a husband and wife, neither of whom ever did particularly well in school or had much opportunity, who - and I don't know why I believe this but I am certain it's true - met and fell in love in high school.  They saw a chance to make something that was theirs, that belonged to them, that had their names on it.  How prideful they must have felt that first day as they saw their drivers head west towards the treasure trove of the city.  How joyful they must have felt to have a chance at true independence.

How great it must have felt to be so free,
controlling their own fruitful destiny.

Sincerely,

Christopher Kim

1 comment:

Nabeel said...

Towing services providing companies can track vehicles from satellite.