If you're mean to me I'll blog about it.

Why on earth would you be rude to someone who has access to your address and a great deal of personal information about you?

This morning I got up and went out serving. But today I thought I'd do something different, today  I let the defendants sleep in.

Normally I get up around 5:30 so I can be at there houses by 6:30 (30 minutes prep time with 30 minutes delivery, I'm like a crappy pizza place.) But today for their sake (and for my own) I decided to give 'em an extra hour where they still live in a world that they haven't been served papers in.

And then I met Mr. Alta Loma. 

First things first you must understand that according to Florida law (I mostly serve interstate documents from Florida) I need the full name of the person I serve. If I don't get the name it doesn't count as a serve. (If they're California documents anything goes, ANYTHING. I throw the documents at your feet and I can say I served John\Jane Doe as I speed away and count my money.)

I get to Mr. Alta Loma's house at 7:35 AM. A decent time I think. Most normal people are up by this time and are getting ready to leave. Is it the best time to deal with being served papers? No, but it's a far cry better than being woken up by a zatfig process server in a Harvard shirt at the crack of dawn.

Mr. Alta Loma claims that the person I've come to serve has left for work already. Mr. Alta Loma is obviously the person I've come to serve. He won't give me his name. All right, I can deal with that, some people are paranoid, it's annoying, but vaguely understandable (for future reference, if a process server asks you for your name, just give it, I'm going to forget it the moment I shoot off the daily e-mail to my fabulous boss.) Vaguely understandable, but Mr. Alta Loma is OBVIOUSLY the person I've come to serve. I ask what time would be better to come by so that I may serve the defendant. Mr. Alta Loma won't give it. This is what they refer to in vulgar parlance as bull crap. MR. ALTA LOMA IS OBVIOUSLY THE PERSON I'VE COME TO SERVE. He's standing two inches in front of me. I could throw the documents at his feet and say that I served the defendant (who is obviously Mr. Alta Loma) but I'm too good of a person for that.

I choke back venom and I'm pissed because I've let Satan's bride (that would be Mr. Alta Loma) see me lose my cool. I plunge into the very depths of my being and pull out a weak, "Thank You." and I die a little inside.