The Southern Serving Process

I have four process servers. I bet none of my readers have ANY process servers in their life (with maybe the exception of Legal Eagle--who really isn't a reader except when I tell her I wrote about her or need her legal advice about a posting).

There was a time when I would have laughed at the person who, thinking them somewhat pretentious, had four process server phone numbers stored in their address book. Not any more. Now I would probably just greet that person with an all encompassed nod and sympathetic pat on the shoulder, fully understanding the gravity of their situation.

Oh wait? You wonder exactly what a process server does? Well, they are the guys you see on TV who hand an envelope (the summons is always an envelope on TV) to some drug thug or soon to be divorced dad with a snide comment saying, "see you in court."

Of course, in real life it is not that way. Generally it just someone paid to hand the summons to the deadbeat tenant. If necessary, that person must be willing to get dressed up and go to court saying, "yes, I gave him that piece of paper" or "yes, I left that piece of paper on her door and here is the photo of it, Your Honor."

In Alabama, all you need to serve someone is to actually identify the person and drop the note at their feet. Or, if they won't come to the door (because, in my case, they are hiding from me and other potential bill collectors), they can post the notice on the door of the deadbeat and take a photo of the notice. A process server's word goes pretty far with a judge over a deadbeat's word.

One of the reasons I have so many process servers is because all of them are located in the South. Things don't happen according to the Roman calendar in the South. So, I need to plan my process serving missions strategically.

Process Server 1: Mr. H. Doesn't own a calendar. Technology challenged (even more than yours truly. Hey! At least I know how to blog). Doesn't own a fax machine or a printer. In order to get him a termination notice, I have to send it by Fed Ex or the US Mail. So, if I want to evict someone on Tuesday, I better send him what he needs the previous Thursday and hope he is in town on Tuesday.

Process Server 2: Red. Doesn't own a calendar. According to Red, he was in a motorcycle accident six weeks ago where he hit a deer on the interstate. He is now limping around on crutches. Hopefully by Thursday he tells me he should be in a walking cast.

And, poor Red isn't driving much lately either. Last week I sent him a notice for Mr. Richards. It is now Wednesday and I am still waiting. Part of this reason I am still waiting is because Red was readmitted into the hospital this past weekend with a punctured lung (another byproduct of his poor motorcycle demise). He was sweet enough to joke that he was sorry he wasn't admitted to the hospital Mr. Richards worked at. Personally, I thought it would have been efficient.

Process Server 3: Carolsue. Yes, Carolsue, the Jill of all trades isn't afraid to slap a summons on some deadbeat's door and tell them to get their stuff and move the hell off my property. She might say it exactly like that, only adding "bless your heart" at the end. I know she owns a calendar. I gave her one when I was in Alabama last November.

Last week Carolsue moved across the street (I mean this literally) from Mr. Richards. It would have been perfect for her to serve him. However, she had no phone or e-mail. My smoke signal device wasn't working either. So, I called Red. Who still hasn't done it. However, I have another one for her to take care of, but that is for another post (stay tuned).

Process Server 4: I keep this one in my back pocket--Baseball Guy. Though I have a phone number and an e-mail address for him, the easiest way to get in touch with him is through Carolsue (which is the same way I get in touch with Andy, my convicted murderer lawn guy). So, if she isn't available, she can subcontract to him.

At any rate, my deadbeats get served. But only in due time.