By Jerome Haller
Early on a recent Sunday morning, a short, bald man limped into the store. He hovered near the front. Shortly afterward, a taller man walked in and headed toward the back. While I chatted with an assistant manager, the two men left the store together.
The assistant looked at me and said the first man served as a lookout. “They stole something,” he said.
The idea that these two losers had punked me made me boil. When I started the job, the Head Guard had told me not to take theft personally. But I can’t help it. When it happens, I feel personally violated.
In short, I wanted these guys. Game on.
The same bald man returned to the store the next morning. I asked him if he needed help. He left. Perhaps he had toyed with me.
The following day, near the end of my shift, another guard arrived early. I’ll call him Pitbull because of his short stature and aggressive personality.
Meanwhile the bald man stood across the street. I told Pitbull about him, and then went to the break room to grab my backpack.
Just after I arrived there, Pitbull rushed inside the room and told me to wait. He ran upstairs and watched the security camera.
He then ran downstairs and told me a suspect was walking toward the exit with stolen merchandise. He said run out on his signal.
We both waited at the door. My body tensed with anticipation. I figured the lookout had sent a buddy into the store.
Pitbull yelled, “Go!” He cut right. I ran left.
I had often fantasized about heroically chasing down a perp while the theme from Starsky & Hutch played in the background. Sadly, this hunt did not work out quite that way.
After running about 20 feet, I started huffing and puffing. I began to regret skipping workouts at the gym. Still, my desire for revenge spurred me to chug forward like the little engine that could.
By the time I got to the front, Pitbull had chased down the thief and wrestled him to the floor. It was the same crook who had left with the bald man two days earlier. I held him while Pitbull clicked on the handcuffs.
We escorted him to the office. Pitbull retrieved about $100 worth of pills and ointments from the man’s jacket. Afterward, he called the police.
Of course, Pitbull got credit for the bust. That did not bother me. Although the lookout and his partner had played me, Pitbull helped me get the last laugh.
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A very pseudononymous Jerome Haller earns rent money as a security guard for a large, publicly-held retail chain. He welcomes your comments.
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See more tales of security guarding, pizzeria waitressing, barista-ing and office drudgering in our Life at Work collection.
Posted on July 27, 2010