Karl Klockars

It’s amazing what you can do when you’re getting paid for it. I’ve been working overnights on and off for the past couple weeks, and on any normal night I’d be passed out in front of the air conditioner by 11:30 or so, but here I sit at twenty after 2am with hours to go before I sleep. There’s a certain rhythm you get into when you’re in the graveyard shift. Most of it involves drinking bad coffee and finding the most obscure websites you can imagine.

And I was trying to remember any other instances where I was forced to stay up uber-late for scratch cash. There was some gas station instances, but I think the possibility for overnight work was the most interesting when I applied to be a repo man. That’s right–scrawny little me was going to be packing heat and breaking into cars and legally stealing all night long. Well, not really.

It was fun to imagine it for a couple days after I saw the ad in the paper, tho. Being taught how to pick locks, hotwire ignitions, and cruise around shady situations late at night sounded like just the thing to pay the bills while I tried to graduate from college. Of course, the fact that this sounded like a good idea is probably proof that I could have used some more education in basic scheduling and common sense.

In actuality, I didn’t even come close to being a repo man. I made a couple phone calls and talked to a couple guys, but I’m pretty sure they knew a skinny little longhair kid wasn’t going to cut it. After a phone conversation, they gave me the address and told me to come out one afternoon and talk with them in person. In retrospect, I realize they wanted to size me up but I was thinking it was just a paperwork/interview kind of thing.

The address was somewhere on the east side of Aurora, right off the tollway and damn near impossible to find. I probably drove my ’85 Cadillac Fleetwood around in a square for miles until I finally tracked down the elusive “office.” Turns out the office was a trailer in a gravel parking lot, hidden behind some semi-trailers and surrounded by reposessed vehicles.

I parked near the trailer after driving around the parking lot, making sure I was in the right place. As I got out of the car three guys hastily exited the trailer, all very large individuals and wearing badges on chains around their necks. I was a bit hesitant at this point, but the large un-muzzled German Shepard one was restraining worried me a bit more.

But I figured hey, as long as I’m here… When in Rome, reposess cars.

All these guys, big oak-tree sized men with thick flak jackets and guns and “Security” badges dangling about packed into this trailer, most likely figuring out who was going to go get what from who, and how not to get shot doing it. And in the midst of it, ponytailed sapling me, trying not to let the dog smell the fear.

And they talked about taking me out one night, and it was all third-shift work because you’ve got to find the car at home, and when they’re asleep it’s easier to get the vehicle away from the property, and we’ll send you out with Jasper one of these nights so you can see what it’s like and tell us what you think. Hoo boy. Easy to fit this into my schedule of afternoon classes and cafeteria food.

“What are you doing tonight?”
“Studying for finals, writing papers. You?”
“Going to work, stealing cars.”

It sounded like a great idea at the time. Alas, not meant to be.

I tiptoed out of there, thankful I was still in control of my bodily functions, and still had every intention of going out some evening and at least getting a story out of boosting cars and avoiding angry owners who can’t make their payments any more. But as it turns out, it was the first job interview I’d been on that ever made someone I knew cry.

The girl I was dating at the time practically collapsed with fear when I told her I applied to be a repo man. Apparently her dad tried it for an evening and got shot at within the first hour or so, and didn’t want anyone on the East Side of Aurora to ventilate her little radio-major boyfriend. Understandable, but I was still being stubborn.

But with a sigh and a shade of dissapointment, I never called those guys back, telling myself I just didn’t have time for that line of work. Besides, I’m sure those people need those vehicles anyways. Gotta get to work and put bread on the table for their families–who am I to do the bank’s dirty work and take Jose’s cargo van away from him?

And after that I didn’t work another overnight until I got stuck with night hours at a gas station gig, which didn’t last long at all. I try to keep my overnight hours to recreational use only. Unfortunately I’ve been unable to do that lately but watching the sun come up over the Brown Line tracks is a tolerable payoff.

So good morning, world. I get to hang out with you and see the 4 o’clock that most people only hear about unless they work for a bakery or are in the military. Or have drug problems. And I’ve got the place all to myself. I’m naked right now. Well, I could be. Or am I really? I don’t know, but at the same time I don’t know who else has been sitting here so I’m playing it safe.

Besides, you never know who’s got a camera somewhere.