junk men

Kurt was an unusual fellow. He was a junkman. It was only a hobby, his real profession was business owner and he was in the right profession to support his hobby. Kurt owned storage facilities, rent-a-box type places where you could store old furniture, an old car, maybe even run a business out of one if you did it right.  He had only been local for a few years, but his reputation had grown.  His was easily the most recognized facility in town and his business flourished. 

One problem with running storage facilities, especially multiple facilities in a metropolitan area is that not everyone pays, not everyone wants their stuff and some people just disappear. There are rules for running a storage facility. Once you realize people are probably not coming back it becomes accepted that the storage business is stuck with their belongings. Some people actually use storage rental specials as a way of getting rid of stuff because it is cheaper than going to the dump. Those are Kurt’s least favorite kinds of people. There is a fine line between a pack rat, a hoarder and a person dumping trash, because he often observed that the people who dumped crap just to get rid of it and avoid dumpster fees often had better trash than what some people wanted to place in storage for future use. He had an uncanny understanding of people who placed items in storage. He had one old couple that had been paying a storage bill for 15 years. They put their items in 15 years ago and paid the bill every month, but never came to the unit. He figured that after 15 years of being in a non-climate-controlled storage unit that hasn’t been opened, to end up with one of two things; a giant rats nest or a time capsule of worthwhile belongs, or, more likely, a combination of the two. 

When people disappeared Kurt would run an advertisement in the paper for any unit that was 2 months in arrears. This was Kurt's favorite part, the period of time between the auction and the actual auction day. Kurt had access to the units because he had to do a rough inventory of the items. People still had an opportunity to purchase their unit at a discounted rate, and several people would show up, sometimes on the day of auction to purchase their unit back, occasionally someone would show up a week after the action wondering what happened to their possessions.

This was, in part, Kurt’s downfall.  When he took his preliminary inventory of a unit pre auction, he succumbed to the temptation to take possession of some objects he found enticing.  Not only was there a rare valuable find that had been overlooked or forgotten by the lessor, there were all-too-often valuable, but illegal items found and frequently the lessors had obtained the units under fictitious names.  Kurt was never one to pass on an opportunity, and was not about to be discouraged by a mere question of legality.  

One such client who was enjoying a staycation in the local jail due to possession of an ounce of weed and other paraphernalia showed up a week late after his unit was sold. Kurt explained to him that his unit contents had been sold and he freaked out. He threatened violence to Kurt’s body. Kurt stared at the gentleman a dumb blank uncaring gaze and told him to have a great day. He walked out pissed and tried to turn over the trash can. The can was chained to the wall. Not the first angry customer in Kurt’s store, definitely not the last. He was taken into custody again within a week for something other crime.  Kurt did not mention that he had managed to make a handy profit on the contraband he had secured from the unit.  Neither did he mention that he should be thanked for cleansing the unit of illegal substances that would otherwise have been noticed by authorities. At Kurt’s facilities prices doubled after a period of time and when talking about having to actually come physically move belongings or pay a difference, with only two-weeks-notice, people tend to be angry, but they pay.  The payment rate is really good when the content of the unit may be illegal. 

Back to the auctions, Kurt owns ten units himself. These are his units that he puts stuff in that he likes pre auction. He has everything from wood paneling to carpentry tools for building a home, to comic book collections, to an urn that turned out to be a celebrity's ashes. I wont say what celebrity. I thought he was just using this as another business, with the intention of selling the stuff, but he liked the idea that he owned part of someone else's life. He likes the way he came to have the stuff. That is his hobby, ownership of another’s treasures. These are his ill gotten gains, whether they are valuable or not they are his now, and he gets to partial them out. He calls them by the tenants name. Mort’s comics, Lenny’s stove, he does the same with property. He loved to buy foreclosed property for the same reason. He never bought the property unless he was in a bidding war with the previous owner. He loved taking it out from under them usually at a discount. My point is that taking people’s lives, and watching the heartache that it caused was this man’s hobby and he loved it. 

His love for other people's junk, the acquiring of it and the warm feeling he got inside explained other aspects of his life. Kurt was, in general, an all around a-hole. He took pleasure in causing other people’s suffering. He did not like to see people suffer, but he liked to be the cause of suffering for people. He donated to the food bank, and even put in some time at a local soup kitchen. The way he treated his employees though, really betrayed his character. 

I first came into the Kurt universe looking for a single father job to manage children and job by myself.  Kurt’s assistant interviewed potential employees, the job offer was made to give me exactly what I needed, and more. Good salary, good schedule, they even would work around any issues. I walked in did my interview, got a call back the next day and was pleased. He had a facility a mile away from my home, starting pay was $16.00 that included commission earned from truck rental. Store opened at 10 and I was able to leave to pick up the kids during a long lunch, get the kids dropped off and come back and close. Amazing, dream schedule, great salary for what I was doing and had time for the family. Kurt saw that I was motivated and happy. Then the hammer fell.  He moved me to a location on the other side of town that didn’t have trucks so the salary was reduced to $10.00 an hour without any commission, and it is a long commute and the schedule now included extended hours.  I was happy, now I am not. I tried to make it work. Kurt stopped by to check on me regular. I voiced my concern. He seemed empathetic, then I realized that he had the same look in his eyes as he did after the auction. He had some concern, but his concern had shifted to the vacant units rather than the profit on the books.  

I saw the manager who had moved to the store I was hired to run. He wanted the swap back but now she was haggard. She did not like working with truck rentals, she did not like that the store was new and she had to try to bring in new business, but Kurt had actually discouraged new clients. She was thinking about quitting. She stated, “I liked the facility that you now manage.  It didn’t make much profit, but it was clean and the clients were honest.  I don’t know, but I suspect that here our clients are not all upstanding folks.  They come and go, before and after hours with their own keys.  I think trouble is coming and I don’t want to get into something I can’t get out of.”

 She had been happy for 2 years and the numbers at the store looked great. No reason to move her. She thought the move was because we were happy.  “Kurt likes to keep his employees miserable.” 

I thought his hobby was junk and at one time it had been, but that was no longer his focus. It seemed that he took his pleasure in causing suffering. He loved inflicting misery and being the source of unhappiness.  Getting profit from this activity was an added benefit.  I began looking for new employment, but knew that I would be unable to get a favorable reference from Kurt.

My way home late at night I passed by Kurt’s large new facility.  It was, after all, only a mile from my home.  On this evening the hour was late—too late for the gates to be open, but they were.  I turned into the facility and found electrical cords running to a back unit that didn’t have electrical service.  A call to the police was placed and they responded immediately.  The officer reported that they had been staking out the facility for some time waiting for an opportunity to come on site for an inspection.  My call had given them an excuse to answer a complaint of trespassing and safety.  They discovered Kurt and several acquaintances cooking meth, methamphetamine, and possessing enough illegal pharmaceuticals to supply a large hospital.

Kurt now dreams of following his junkman hobby when he gets out of custody in three to five years.