Confessions of a Midnight Facebook Troll (Names Redacted to Protect the Guilty)

So picture this: It’s a random weeknight, I should be sleeping, but instead I’m deep in a Facebook scroll/troll session—don’t judge, you do it too. As I’m mindlessly tapping through memes and birthday shoutouts, suddenly… I recognize a car. Not just any car. A Ford Fusion. Back windows totally blasted out. Now, being a car gal, I can spot one of mine a mile away—and yes, I zoomed in like the crime analyst I was never trained to be. There it is. My dealership logo still proudly displayed on the trunk like a badge of honor in a war zone.

My heart skips a beat. Is that… my daughter’s car? Oh, heck no.

A little digging (okay, full-blown investigation) confirms it’s not hers. Phew. Instead, it’s a customer’s car. Turns out, she let her “friend” borrow it. Said “friend” thought the best way to stand up for a bullied teen was to… shoot out the back window. Eight+ times. At a park. In broad daylight. For the record, this is not what we meant when we said “protect your peace.” Sadly, a kid got shot in the foot. No details officially released (minor involved, after all), but my data comes from a mix of court records, the customer, and probably a friend of a friend who knows a bailiff.

Anyway, still wide awake and very much in nosey-mode, I keep scrolling… and BAM! Mugshot. Bright pink hair. Unmistakable. Another customer. She’s 67, feisty, and I genuinely like her. Pays on time, communicates well, always kind. This one hurt a little. Charges? Meth. And dealing meth.

Listen. Meth is bad. Don’t do meth. But I’m not going to drag her—grief does strange things to people. Her partner passed last year, she’s likely spiraling, and honestly? She still pays her car, keeps her insurance active, and never cussed me out. That’s more than I can say for a few sober folks. May she find healing and a really solid therapist.

Now, you’d think I’d stop there. But no, curiosity is a powerful drug too (and slightly more legal). I pull up the Tippecanoe County Sheriff’s app. That thing is a nosy person’s Disneyland. Mugshots. Charges. All nicely categorized like it’s Amazon for bad decisions.

Not five scrolls in—I see another customer. Prior customer, thank the Lord. This one? A registered pedophile. Disgusting. Absolutely zero passes for that kind of garbage. If the word “nope” were a person, it’d be him. Fast-forward a few days, and his ex-wife comes in to pay off her own account—and gives me her updated last name. Good for her. I would’ve changed mine to “Nope McNopeFace” and moved to Alaska.

Naturally, I asked (silently, respectfully), “HOW did you not know?” Apparently, he was from another state, and background checks aren’t centralized. You have to request them by county. If you don’t know the county… well, congrats, you’re dating a monster in mystery mode. Ohio, do better.

Oh, and guess what? He already has a boyfriend. In prison/jail. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination… and mine, which unfortunately just threw up in my mouth.

Now it’s about 2am. Am I tired? Yes. Am I still scrolling? Also yes. Because at this point, it’s not even gossip—it’s field research. I reach the bottom of the mugshot list and see one last familiar face. A former customer. Been in jail for over a year now for—you guessed it—DUI. Habitual. Super friendly guy, though. Used to tell me he was a model. Said he looked like a “Ken Doll.” And you know what? His mugshot? Full-on Blue Steel. He’s posing like the cover of Jailhouse GQ. I laughed way too hard.

So yeah, moral of the story: If you’re ever bored, can’t sleep, or just need to feel better about your life choices, download your local sheriff’s app. You might find your ex, your cousin, your hairdresser—or one of your own customers doing a glamour shot in orange.

Sleep tight, Tippecanoe County. Y’all keep it spicy.

(All info public. No names shared. Because I’m nosey, not heartless.)

• August 2025

🚓 Impound-palooza: A Week in the Life of a Car Dealer (Who’s Seen It All… Until Now)

In my 19 years at this job, I’ve seen a lot. But this week? This week takes the cake. For the first time ever, we had three cars impounded back-to-back. And yes, they were all ours.

Now, I like to think I’ve become a bit of a chaos interpreter over the years, but sometimes all I can do is shake my head and ask, Why can’t people just follow the rules? But hey—what do I know? I just run the place.

🚘 Impound #1: Loaner Car or Group Getaway Vehicle?

Let’s kick things off with our generous act of loaning a car to a customer while hers was being repaired. Now, this isn’t our first rodeo. There’s a whole signed agreement that clearly states only the customer is allowed to drive the loaner.

So imagine my surprise when we get a call that the loaner has been impounded… in Chicago.

Her version: She and her boyfriend were pulled over for a plate light being out (it wasn’t), and he got arrested for being near her gun.

Sure. That sounds legit. But since I’m a fan of actual facts, I called the police. Want to guess what I found out?

Turns out she wasn’t even in the car. Her boyfriend and two of his buddies took the joyride—starting in Logansport and ending in Gary. One guy had active warrants and was arrested. The boyfriend? A known felon, caught with a gun in the car. You can guess how that ended.

We drove 2 hours each way to get the car back, paid $410 in impound fees, and found it filled with trash. Oh—and the largest “roach” I’ve ever seen. I’m not exactly hip to street lingo, but if this thing was a roach, then I guess we’re measuring drugs in foot-long subs now.

Toss in a spare tire that needed replaced, a deep clean, and a whole lot of time… Wanna guess if the customer reimbursed us? Exactly. You’re pretty smart.

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🚗 Impound #2: Local Edition, Just as Messy

We get notified about another impound—this time right here in town. A Buick.

So we head to the impound lot, pay the fee, and bring it back. A few days later, the customer is out of jail and wants his car. We gave it back after he paid us back (plus a $50 admin fee) and showed proof of insurance. Why? Because honestly, the car wasn’t worth fighting over.

It was a rolling ashtray with door panels that looked like they had been smoked on, not in. Gallons—gallons—of half-empty alcohol containers, trash everywhere. If we took it to auction, it might not even fetch $200.

Sometimes it’s better to cut your losses… even if it stings.

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🚓 Impound #3: Surprise! Another One!

Just when I thought we could breathe again, we get a call from the girlfriend of another customer—our Charger got impounded.

Now, here’s the kicker: the tow yard never told us, which they’re legally supposed to do within 72 hours. So we’re already several days behind, and the bill is already $455. Based on how this story is unfolding, we’re probably not seeing a dime of that money back either.

What did we get back? A wannabe cop car complete with black fire stickers on the sides—because obviously, that makes it go faster.

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🤷‍♀️ The Bottom Line

Three impounds. One week. All preventable.

Here’s the real takeaway: most of this could’ve been avoided if people just followed basic instructions. Like, I don’t know… don’t loan a loaner to your felon boyfriend. Or maybe don’t turn your Buick into a frat house on wheels. Or—wild thought—drive legally and responsibly.

But hey. What do I know?

I just run the place.

You know what I love? (Insert sarcasm here.)

When a customer messes up their own payment and then turns around and comes at us like we robbed them. And yes, this has happened more than once. Unfortunately.

Let me break down one of the latest examples:

A customer was due for $85 on a Friday. They’re on autopay, but surprise surprise, the card gets declined. We try the card. We text, call, and email them to let them know—because hey, sometimes cards get locked, or funds are low, we get it. But guess what?

Crickets.

So we try again:

• Saturday – declined.
• Monday – declined.
• Tuesday – you guessed it, declined.
• Wednesday – still declined.

All while trying to reach out to them every time. Still nothing.

Then comes Thursday, and like magic, the $85 clears. 🎉 Hooray, right?

But wait… they’re on a weekly plan. So guess what? Friday, they’re due another $85. We run the card again—and it clears again! Double hooray!

Or so we thought.

Because shortly after that… I get THE MESSAGE.

“You overdrafted me! You ran my card back to back! I want it refunded immediately! This is unprofessional!”

Oh really?

So I send her every single attempt we made to run the card. I even logged into the Visa portal to pull the time-stamped logs showing exactly when each charge was declined and when they finally went through.

Then I nicely told her this:

“You owe us an apology. Don’t ever accuse someone of something unless you’re 100% sure. I won’t forget how you acted, and the perks you had—like your annual upgrade and early trade-in option—are now officially off the table. I don’t reward that kind of behavior.”

She never replied.

Funny how that works.

We all screw up and if we did something wrong, I would’ve been the first to bend over backwards and get it fixed for her. I would have apologized and owned up. I sometimes think you can tell when parents stopped grounding, spanking and in general punishing their children for bad behavior.