Delivering Chinese food on Tuesdays was a fun gig while it lasted. Now, in this new year my jacket will not reek of eggrolls and lo mein. And while that was bad, it was another memory of being a delivery driver that was far worse than a smelly jacket or a non-tipper. It was the theft of the China Express magnetic pyramid sign that was on my car’s roof. Once I told my boss, I learned I would have to pay $100 of the sign’s $150 value (pretty much my entire shift’s worth of money). I also was the only person in the history of China Express to lose a sign. When I was driving back after the sign got jacked I realized the best chance of getting it back would be to write to the editor of the publication, Seven Days, which has a fairly substantial amount of college-aged readers. The following is that letter. Below my letter will be a link to the article Seven Days wrote about the situation. Unfortunately, the sign was never returned and I’m out $100. I still think the whole situation–given the character of 2009–is pretty funny.
Dear Paula,
I’ve been delivering food for China Express and recently had the magnetic pyramid sign yanked off the top of my car by the some phantom thief on Loomis St. Initially, my reaction was one of confusion, which was soon followed by mild concern. My emotional conclusion, however, was slight amusement at the act. But when I returned to work and my boss told me I have to pay $100 for the $150 sign I soon became, well, not necessarily enraged to point of wanting to hunt down the culprit and beat them with the stolen sign—but that was a thought that certainly crossed my mind. Then I thought about it, realizing how incredibly hard it would be to find the thief. So, I filed a police report as Sam suggested and, remembering an episode of Seinfeld, accepted the hopelessness of the situation. Nothing but $100 of bad luck.
The woman at the police department told me that sometimes they find these sort of things in college kids’ apartments when cops are called for other reasons, but the likelihood of that is unlikely, and I’d bet on Tom Cruise denouncing Scientology before I bet on that sign magically being found because loud noise or the smell of weed brought cops to the home of the Loomis St. Sign Thief.
This is why I am writing you. After all, I do suspect college-aged humans are behind this—perhaps, a goofy lightweight peacocking for his friends. And many college students read Seven Days, so it seems only natural to ask you to donate a little bit of space (print or online) to save me from an unnecessary debt of $100. I am a college student myself, with plenty of debt to keep me toiling away until my joints start locking up and my muscles begin to disintegrate.
Below this letter you will find a message to anyone who may know about the sign’s whereabouts.
Thanks and take care,
Joe Dimeck
STOLEN: China Express Magnetic Pyramid Sign
I used to think the fastest way to lose $100 was to stumble into a casino in New Orleans at 3 in the morning with a gut full of booze and Lucky Dogs. But I have been proven wrong. The fastest way to lose $100 is to be a delivery guy and have the magnetic sign stolen off your car while you’re delivering food to a back entrance of a home.
It’s true. In no more than 4 minutes someone on Loomis St. snuck out from the shadows and plucked the sign clean off my roof. I suspect a drunken college student is responsible—and I imagine one was responsible for the 1987 theft of a bust of Jim Morrison’s head taken off his tombstone in Paris. And like the bust of Jim Morrison’s head, the China Express magnetic pyramid sign is probably being proudly displayed in a living room somewhere.
But here’s the kicker: I’m responsible. I owe my boss $100 and that really sucks. I, too, am a college student. Debt is what I’m in, and minimizing any additional debt is something I’m really interested in. $100 is far too much to pay for what is certainly an amusing act of jackassery. So, if you have the sign or know who does please return the sign to China Express—say you found it on the side of the road or something—or you can email me at joedimeck@ronebreak.com and I will come get it from you. Either way, whoever is responsible for the return of the sign will get a General Tso’s combination platter on me. Unless you’re planning on delivering Chinese food or leaving the sign on the roof of your friend’s car in what would be the correct play, you really have no use for the sign—so give it back, please.
Thanks,
Joe