Not Every Problem Can Be Solved With A Hand Grenade
Back when debt collectors were chasing me I'd got into the habit of answering the phone under various aliases and spouting the same stock standard nonsense that most people do anyway (e.g. 'Ringo's Crematorium, Ringo speaking. You kill 'em, we grill 'em.' or 'This is Sydney terminal you are cleared to land.') Which would confuse them (the debt collectors) long enough that you can hang up on them and they'd leave you alone for another fortnight. But this was just one group of debt collectors. Multiply that a few dozen times and you get the idea of what I'm facing every frickin' day.
Phone calls from suppliers, various street publications (like 'xxxx' magazine), garbage collectors, some guy who worked on the website of the bar, xxxx (who it turns out we haven't paid since '02) are now part of my life. The most common type of call I have to field is the one that pertains to a bounced cheque. These folks are fairly easy to placate. All I have to do is promise these dudes that there's another cheque on the way (which hopefully won't bounce) and this calms most of the callers. But some of these boys want to play hardball. These are the suppliers who are (understandably) irate by the lack of money in their hands. They have gone beyond the usual threats of sending in thugs with cricket bats and have instead started to send us severed ears of children in the mail. 'Who's do you think this is?' I ask "Bernie" as I remove the ear from the blood-splattered envelope.
'Just put it aside with the rest of the mail.'
Perhaps we'll need it later as forensic evidence when the police are eventually called in. And if not, it may make a lovely necklace.
Oh the Humanity!