Chapter 29: Desperation

Received an email response to the inquiry I recently emailed to the green hulled catamaran owner. Mine included a bill for the eleven months overdue storage, with a reminder. A clause in the storage contract he signed, stipulates that accrued unpaid storage fees of a year or longer, subject the boat to possible auction at the marina’s discretion. The owner agrees the marina automatically has this option to recuperate the debt without requiring the marina file for issue of a judgment in court. The tenth of next month is the one year anniversary, and the debt if left undiminished, triggers the option then. Some payment, any payment, even one month to postpone the clause taking effect, I highly recommended. The response invited an evening phone conversation, because he was unavailable during the day. He never answered his phone when I tried calling, so I knew he wasn’t reachable during the day. That’s the reason I emailed him. Tonight, I’m calling him again.

“Hi, Bob. Hope everything is fine with you. Is this a good time for a talk?”

“We can talk, Joe, but I can’t pay anything. I can’t borrow anything to make up a payment either. I’ve already borrowed every cent I can, from everyone I know. My son’s in jail awaiting trial. My brothers, nephews, and I have scraped together every cent we can manage, including mortgaging our family farm, just to raise cash to pay for the lawyer’s fees. I don’t know what else I’m going to have to do. Auctioning or outright selling the boat is all I can imagine doing.”

“Is it intruding to ask why your son was arrested?”

“Capital murder of a police officer. He’s facing the death penalty if he’s convicted. It was unintentional, he wasn’t aiming at the officer, but someone else. The officer stepped into the path of the bullet. So you see? It’s a matter of life and death for my only son! I’m working two jobs during the day and keeping up with the farm chores the best I can. I’m trying everything to save him. Do you have any children?”

“Some in the oven, but I can empathize to a degree. All my male relatives were murdered and my mom died of grief, when I was ten. Old enough to feel the loss, grieve and be angry. Is there anything I can do for you to help?”

“Can you get some money out of my boat for me? Anything would help, and would be welcome. I’d really appreciate it.”

“What’s your lowest acceptable sale price? I’ll try to get you more of course. The marina will need to be paid from the sale proceeds. Sorry, that’s unavoidable. The marina can’t afford to write it off. We could let you ride for an extra six months before exercising the option, but I don’t see that as helpful in your situation.”

“I put a For Sale sign on the boat when I left. I knew then I can’t afford to return and use it again, probably never will. At best, I won’t have money for a vacation for the foreseeable future decade. Did you see my sign? Did it blow away?”

“I saw it when I went aboard your boat to check it. You left the sign laying on the chart table. It asks $3900. Is that rock bottom price?”

“Shit, I was in such a dither over my boy! My head could have been left it on the chart table. I was thinking $3900 would generate quick offers, but I left a little wriggle room. Nobody pays the first ask.

They always haggle some. What do you think I could realistically get? It’s an emergency sale. I’m desperate! There’s no rock bottom.”

“Lump sum cash? Or are you willing to take installments?”

“I could. Five hundred a month in installments. The total price worth stretching it out otherwise, but under two grand, I prefer lump sum.”

“After the marina gets theirs, even getting your full ask will only net you twenty five hundred, or a bit less. Think hard. Your ask isn’t reasonable to expect in a fire sale. Would you accept three hundred a month, for six months? Call the indebtedness wiped clean?”

“I’d rather have four hundred monthly times six.”

“No doubt you would, but that’s not offered.”

“Are you personally making the offer, Joe?”

“I’m trying to come up with one. I don’t know anyone who might be interested, or if I’ll ever recoup my investment in a future less urgent sale, but three hundred a month is all I can do. I’ll have to absorb the marina debt, a hundred each month debited against my salary. So I AM paying four hundred a month but you can only have three of it.”

“You’re a real pal, Joe. For you, I’ll accept your terms. Three hundred a month for seven months. I got to clear at least two grand.”

“So there is a rock bottom after all?”

“Yeah, I guess you can say that there is. Two grand. Yeah.”

“Two hundred a month for ten months? That’s two grand.”

“I appreciate you, but $200 doesn’t relieve much pressure on me.”

“I understand, but I’m not living in a vacuum, Bob. I have my own share of urgent problems. Three newborns arriving in less than seven months, and you know yourself, babies are never cheap!”

“Triplets, huh? Congratulations, to you and your wife, Joe.”

“Thanks for not hoping everything comes out all right. Not triplets though, there’s three pregnant moms.”

“You horn dog! You deserve whatever you’re going to get, then.”

“I try to earn my way. What’s it going to be Bob? Three times six or two times ten?”

“Didn’t we just agree to three times seven?”

“I don’t recall the conversation went that way. You dangled three times seven, but I didn’t take the bait. Tell you what, I’ll sweeten the pot. Five hundred up front. I can wire transfer that to your account tomorrow if you text me the bank routing number and your account number. On every anniversary of tomorrow’s date for the next six months, I’ll wire you another two hundred fifty bucks. Deal?”

“Does that come out at two grand total? Seems short somehow.”

“Too late, Bob. Should have grabbed it quick. I just remembered, wire transfers would cost me thirty dollars each. Can’t afford it. So, I’ll cover wiring the five hundred tomorrow, but I’ll mail checks for $250, on time to arrive by the anniversary date, for the six months.”