Wednesday, November 4, 2015

Serving Divorce Papers to a Cheating Lesbian from New York

Some days I feel like I'm less living a life than I am completing a video game with countless side missions and as a result, I probably possess the most diversified resume of anyone I know. I grew up working construction where I did everything from dig holes to operate cranes. I spent years in high school as a mechanic/body-man. I've owned my own custom guitar shop and clerk'd everywhere from gas-stations to record-stores. I've assistant-edited multiple seasons of a television show and even spent more than a year as a driver/bodyguard. Quite a few of these gigs are the result of being the guy to call when my friends experience issues in their normal lives that they need resolved by someone incredibly loyal.

That's me. Someone's sister is getting kicked out of her house by an aggressive landlord? Call Josh. Need a music video shot and you have no budget, no cast, and no equipment? Call Josh. Someone about to get the shit beat out of them at a bar? Call Josh. You get the point. So when my buddy back in New York called and told me he had a friend who needed something taken care of in Los Angeles, I was the one that got the call to serve divorce papers to a cheating lesbian in North Hollywood.

I was in Olympia, WA hanging out with my family at a goth bar at the time I got the call. "Josh, I have a friend in New York who's wife ran away with another woman. She needs someone dependable in Los Angeles to do a favor." He sent me her details and I got in contact with the woman the next day. Her name was Dianne and she was absolutely heartbroken that not only had she been cheated on (with a woman she described as a Yeti), but her Ex, Sabrina was using her social security number to create an ever growing mountain of credit card debt. As if that wasn't enough, the woman was actively avoiding being served papers and had dodged two Process Servers thus far. The first of which gave up for unknown reasons while the second lost the element of surprise by presenting the papers to her girlfriend and not her. He shortly gave up as well.

I looked into it, and as luck would have it, she seemed relatively easy to track and only lived a few miles away from me. She still had New York plates and worked at Saphire's, a chain of local make up stores. But that was the end of the good news. Dianne described Sabrina's girlfriend quite vividly as "a violently angry guerrilla" who apparently dwarfed me in every way. After a week I received the paperwork and the affidavit in the mail. Under California law, anyone may act as a process server assuming they over 18 and not actively involved in the case. My job was to approach her, get her to acknowledge her name, and if she didn't willingly accept the paperwork, drop it at her feet. Seems easy enough on paper, but the fact that two people who did this as a professional-vocation had failed was a somewhat frightening notion.

So I set out at 7:30am to go and stake her house out. I knew they lived in a very suburban area so I dressed myself in a long-sleeve, black shirt to cover my tattoo's. I immediately found the SUV with New York plates and the girlfriends accompanying white SUV in the driveway. I parked around the corner with their house barely in sight and sat there for the first hour as the neighbors walked their dogs and gave suspicious looks. The only way to not stick out while unavoidably sticking out is to completely own it. So I smiled and waved at the local inhabitants. When one finally approached me I gave my already well coached line that my little sister had sent me to this cross-street to pick her up, but the little bugger must've drained her cell-phones battery and wasn't answering my calls. Having mastered this line many times before, she bought it hook line and sinker.

Eventually the white SUV turned out and left. I struggled with whether to follow it or not, but ultimately it wasn't listed to me as her car, so I let it go and played it safe. I sat there and followed up my lead that she worked at a local cosmetic supply store. I was amazed and bewildered to see that there were 15 of these damn stores within a 6 mile radius. Women, truly love their damn makeup. Realizing that I in no way wanted this woman to have my contact info, I downloaded a "Pranking" App for my phone and made it seem as if I was calling from the local pharmacy. At 9:25AM, the first ten local Saphire's received a call from "Jake the Pharm-Tech" representing the local CVS pharmacy. Each time he asked to speak with Sabrina about a "personal matter".

One lady I spoke with told me she wasn't sure of the Sabrina from her store's last name, but that she should be in around 11am. I thanked her and hung-up. Another I called hesitated in speaking to me me, but ultimately laid on me that she USED to work there. This made me suspicious, so I put this location at the top of my list. Just then the Black SUV pulled out of their driveway in a fury. I started my car and waited until she turned the corner and gunned it to catch up. From the time I first played Grand Theft Auto 3, I had been preparing for this moment. I stayed behind, leaving her just in view so I could track her every movement, but not close enough for her to notice me.

After a few moments she turned into a gas station and my pulse pounded. It's not often I get nervous, I go years at a time without feeling the kind of nerves so many speak of, but I damn-well did at that moment. I took off my seat belt and prepared to pull in behind her car in order to block it in so that she couldn't escape without dealing with me. Just as I was about to make my turn she got out and it was her mammoth-mountain of a girlfriend, not her. Bust. I took the next corner without being noticed and downtroddenly continued on to the first store.

I parked in Hollywood and walked up to the local Starbucks, after all, I wanted to look natural. I ordered my coffee and mosy'd over to the first Saphire's. Though I could make out several employees... there was no Sabrina. I walked away and called my wife who was delighted at my inquiry of what makeup I could buy her to establish my front. She texted me the name of some unholy expensive nail-polish and I walked in looking like a confused husband (something I excel at as I've done so many times before). I snooped around playing stupid and eventually was approached by a worker. I asked for the shade of ultra-rare polish and she walked me over to the area and picked it out for me. On the way to the counter I asked about my wife's old friend Sabrina and whether she worked here anymore. It's then that I was informed that she had quit and moved to a new area. Damn. Bust 2.

I pulled out of the parking garage when I suddenly noticed a Chevy Suburban speeding away from a hotel and toward my window. I screamed at the man as he looked down at his phone. Just as he was about to hit my door I sped out of the way and he creamed the back of my car. My head hit the side of the car and the world went all spiny for a few moments. I grumbled and growled nonsensically at the man as I stumbled out of my car toward him. As I watched him climb out of his ridiculously monstrous automobile, I noticed that he looked dazed as well. So, like a damn fool, I asked if he was ok, a question to which he did not reply. After somewhat-less politely asking him exactly what the hell was going through his head, we pulled over to the side of the hotel and exchanged information. I suppose it was in a failed attempt to diffuse the situation that he brought attention to his name being Mellick and my middle name being Milton and what a funny little world it was. At that point, I turned to him and deadpanned, "Yeah, we're practically fucking brothers."

I drove away still in a bit of shock and messaged Diane that today was not to be the day and that I had gotten in an accident. As I drove home I figured what the hell and routed myself past Sabrina's house. No one home. I sat there for a moment and realized that if she was gone this long, she HAD to be at work. I continued down my list and called the other five Saphire's and the last one was the winner. CVS (heh) called the Saphire store in Glenview and the lady put me on hold for Sabrina.
Fuckin' Bingo, Mother Fucker.

I took off, pissed off due to my car's new wounds for the Glenview Mall. After all, zombie-like consumers walking in hordes was what I was in the mood to deal with. I arrived, walked in the mall and found the map directing me to the center of a huge department store. I no longer possessed the patience to deal with the "needing to buy nail-polish for my wife" front and darted around the store analyzing all of the workers. Once I was sufficiently convinced that the target was not in the showroom, I asked a lady if Sabrina still worked there. She told me that she knew her, but that she worked at the other Saphire store about three blocks away.

Incensed that there would be two such stores in such a small proximity, I again stormed off, this time on foot. However, once I got a foot outside the door, paranoia creeped in. She said she knew Sabrina. What if she would warn her about my impending arrival? There was no way I had came all the way to the Glenview goddamn Mall just to be evaded at the last second, so I sprinted across the street, paying no mind to the oncoming cars. Once I arrived at the destination and had sight of the front door, I took a moment to regain my breath before my approach. After all, the building didn't appear to have any exits out of the back and I had the front more than covered.

I stalked around the area for a few moments before I walked towards it and paused. I caught the reflection of blond hair with black roots that matched hers. I peered around until I could get a full sight of her face... it was her. She was stationed to the left of the main door so I walked in with confidence and spoke to the door greeter. "Hello! I'm looking for a friend of mine." Her eyes perked and I swung my head around to her. "Oh my god! Sabrina?!?" I exclaimed. Her eyes went wide and she dawned a flirtatious smile. "Yes?" she said. I then spun around, grabbed the papers out of my back pocket and released fake the smile from my own face and hers followed suit immediately. "I've been served haven't I?" she groaned. I handed her the papers "Yes ma'am, you have, enjoy your day." and I walked the fuck out.

Looking back at the entire ordeal, I gotta say that it was fun. I always wanted to be a detective when I was growing up and this was probably about as close as I'll get. I'm just extremely glad that I was able to confront her in public rather than at her house with the gigantic apelike girlfriend that could have torn me limb from limb. And I don't feel bad for the girl at all. She cheated on the friend of a friend and ran away. Sure she looked sad when I served her, but fuck her. This wasn't Karma coming back to bite her in the ass, this wasn't even justice, this was just the mathematic-like result of repeatedly doing horrible things to someone who loves you and I'm glad I got to help that out.

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