I placed the change in his hand. He looked at me as though I was the stupid one and then left clutching the drinks at his side.
I heard my boss’s voice yell “Stop them David! Thieves!” He came running down the stairs from his office.
I heard the woman yell from outside “Run!!” The man was running, his feet slapping against the concrete outside as he rounded the corner.
I heard car doors opening.
My boss’s voice: “Stop them David!”
The car engine started with a roar, tyres spun out.
I saw my boss run around the counter and out the front door screaming at the top of his voice “Stop! I’ll get the fuckin’ cops onto you!”
I saw the car drive right past him with the man in the passenger seat pulling the fingers and laughing as the car drove off, barely avoiding a crash as it screeched and skidded onto the wet roads weaving into the main flow of traffic.
“Jesus fuck David, what happened?” The boss was walking back into the shop.
“I… I… don’t know. I turned my back on the woman. I don’t actually know what happened.” I scratched my head. “What happened?”
“I saw her hanging around the vodka specials when you went to the counter.” He shook his head. “Shit! Damn it.”
“Damn, sorry. I didn’t see her take it out with her. won’t you have them on the security cameras?”
He suddenly brightened up. “Yeah! Yeah, I will. Shit, forgot in the rush of the moment. Okay, I’ll get that to the police straight away.” He waved his hand in front of him. “Look, don’t worry about this incident okay? I’ve stuffed up this situation before as well. Nothing to feel guilty about. Y’ doing great.”
I wasn’t particularly concerned. I kinda liked the fact that the incident happened. Made my day that much more interesting. And that man and woman didn’t really look like they were that much concerned either. Kinda looked like they were actually having a load of fun.
* * *
I never told Mum I was working in a liquor store. I couldn’t.
I have seen people obsessed by their craving for alcohol walking through the front doors with a look of eager anticipation and wetting their lips like a six-year-old stepping through the gates of a wonderland, their bodies racked with a shake that demanded appeasing.
I hated that job so much because it had ended up reminding me of just what I was trying to forget: the people I had known – kids in the youth group, Lisa’s very own parents, friends from church who had stood in front of me with enough balls to actually claim that alcohol was a less harmful ‘drug’ than marijuana when they had neither tried marijuana nor read or compared any of the facts about both; and the people I did know – Mum. All of them abusing alcohol like it was some kind of solution to their problems. Those thoughts brought memories like a plague that at one point had me in tears after one of my shifts.
I couldn’t stand the thoughts that alcohol sales and distribution were dredging up from my past, so I opted for a job that was easier on my conscience.
Chapter 4:
Life-Games presents: “Fool-time Worker”
I had spent about a year playing one game. Stuck in my room – I take that back; not so much ‘stuck’, but more along the lines of being cosily snug, wrapped up in a blanket, face plastered to my computer screen as I trudged through rain and mud, wind and snow; a soldier in an elite team of online commandos running through broken homes, tearing down doors, smashing windows and snipering enemy from far-off distances. I took breaks and began shorter games that would only last me a week or so, before going back to the life of a soldier with endless days of fighting against the weather as though it too were the enemy who hid behind the crests of hills, guarded outposts with their comrades waiting silently in trees overhead; and with the slightest sound, the slightest wrong move, I was a goner with blood washing over my vision and darkness encasing the screen.
Damn I’m Hungry! It was only in those moments, when the ‘You are Dead’ or ‘Game Over’ window popped up that I could think about the needs of my body, don a coat and brave the torment of the world outside as I made my way to the grocery store on foot, head down with cap pulled low for fear that other eyes might recognise these ones.
I miss the excitement of not knowing what was coming next; of having such low health stats that to survive the rest of this level would be a miracle; of what was waiting around a corner that looked like all the other corners that had lulled me into this sense of security only to be bombarded by missiles as I desperately pounded the keyboard in futile attempts to escape: I miss my heart pounding with the expectation of the obvious but unknown.
It was all just fun and games.
Games are fun.
Work sucks. But you already knew that.
I steal to relieve the boredom.
Part I
– Planning –
I would say that it began with sneaking a few cups of coffee outside of my designated break times. Any true thief would say that it doesn’t start until the threat of police action is apparent, but that was something I had to work my way up to, so I stole stuff they were throwing out anyway.
Sheets, towels, face cloths – it didn’t really matter to me. I worked in and out of a giant shed filled with women folding and re-bundling hotel sheets, overalls from the Freezing Works and lots of laundry from the hospital. All I had to do was unload the bags of laundry from the trucks they came in, or transfer all the bundles of hotel sheets from containers to trolleys, then push the trolley inside and drop them off down the correct aisle. The only time anyone was watching me was when I was inside, and the only time the bosses stepped outside was to have a cigarette or to leave the premises.
Jill would push her trolley out whenever it was filled with old product that the laundry rental company would no longer use because “it isn’t ours to sell or give away” said the boss, yet that would’ve meant that it wasn’t theirs to throw away either, so I took it upon myself to stop such wastage occurring and allow myself the luxury of free stuff.
I waited for a day when I was out by the rubbish bins emptying one of Jill’s loads and there was no one around. I grabbed a bundle of sheets that were already wrapped up in plastic and quickly ran around to the side of the building and stashed them under a tree. Shit, I got back and picked up another bundle to throw away just as the boss walked out of the building to “disappear” as she does every afternoon at about two o’clock or so. At about nine-thirty that night I rang Lucas and suggested a night time mission. He was more than keen.
I had picked the ultimate night – lots of mist and cold air hanging precariously about. We parked close but not directly outside for fear of being too ‘obvious’ – a short walk up the footpath might be enough to put an outside observer off. But as we left the car and began walking towards that tree around the side of the building, I realised that the only ‘outside observers’ would be either prison guards doing a night-shift or the prisoners themselves (assuming they had windows to look out of). And that’s when the prison really began to make its presence felt. It just stood there over the other side of the road waiting patiently; like an impenetrable fortress about to laugh off its would-be assailants. Except this fortress was waiting for that false move that would land the outsider inside. I wondered if it knew subconsciously what I was doing and was waiting for me to trip an alarm or something; generally just to fuck up and cause enough havoc that it could laugh through its belly as they dragged me through the gates wearing a blue uniform and being reduced to nothing more than a number – everything our Fathers in Sunday School had warned us against finally coming true. It haunted me.
Lucas stood ‘guard’ (with one hand in a pocket and the other concentrating on the cigarette that was being swamped by mist), while I went in like an SAS agent, slowly creeping across the raised lawn, pausing at the edge of the building, sneaking a look around the corner and then finally moving in and grabbing the cargo.
From directly behind me I h
eard Lucas say “Got it?” He had followed behind casually and wasn’t doing much to try to stay hidden.
“Yeah” I said, “Lets go.”
We shuffled off towards the car but the prison across the road kept its eyes on me. I kept my head low.
The next day I was constantly waiting for the boss to come up to me and ask for me to go into her office for a private meeting. I had tried sussing the whole camera angles out before hand but had completely failed to recognise any cameras at all so thought I was in the clear. Then the head CEO’s came for a visit and the boss was in the office with them as I continued my daily chore of unloading the hospital linen from the truck and piling it down aisles ready for the ladies to unpack, refold and restack. I was kind of trying to speed things along by throwing the bags down the aisles instead of carrying them. All of a sudden the boss was behind me and gave me a hell of a fright as I turned around.
“Umm, David” she said. “Could you…” and shit I was half expecting her to say “come with me into the office… you’re BUSTED!” but it was nothing more than a sheepish look on her face as she said, “…please not throw the linen around while the CEOs are here. We don’t own it so we are obliged to look after it, and it would be good if my bosses saw us doing that.”
I smiled and said “sure, okay” and we had a laugh as she turned away and went back to the office.
I left work with a grin on my face as the prison over the road continued to stare at me. I tried to ignore it, but I knew that it had its eyes on me, waiting for that false move that would land me inside as one more of its growing number of inmates.
* * *
Lucas had begun working for money again. The volunteer work dried out and he was in dire need for an income so got a job at Southland Pastries, a factory that manufactured pastries and sauces that would eventually get shipped overseas – little of it actually ending up in Southland itself, a good chunk being trucked off to various New Zealand sights in the North Island. He told me about the amount of waste that went on at that place, with pastries and finished products being dumped because they weren’t ‘cut’ properly, or had the wrong sauce on them. When he told me that the bin that everything got dumped in was left open, and most of the food was left there without any damage to it – “I mean, you could practically get away with stealing the food at night if no one is watching, and at night no one is anyway” – I suggested another night-time mission.
Lucas lived in a house with a woman who had a four year old daughter. She was married but the husband had left because neither of them could stand each other anymore. There was a loft attached above the garage, but Lucas had taken one of the inside rooms because he said it was about one hundred dollars cheaper than the loft.
“So the wife has retained ownership of the house?” I asked as he put some sketches down on the kitchen table.
“Nah, the husband bought it with his own money but decided to let the wife and kid continue living here for free if she didn’t ask for half the money when he sells it, which, of course, she is entitled to regardless. She also has the perk of keeping my rent money for herself while the loft pays part of the powerbill.”
“Sounds like she’s got the best part of the deal.”
“Well, that’s debatable. The place is worth well over half a million.”
“Really?” I was a little stunned because the inside wasn’t much more than just ordinary. I took a look around the kitchen wondering where the value was hidden.
“It’s not what’s hanging on the walls – it’s how the walls are constructed, the design, layout and where the property is situated: top-class area, near a respected high school. This house would be a primo buy, but I get the feeling that Lucy ain’t gonna be moving out anytime soon.”
“Just to piss the husband off?”
“Well, she says it’s for the sake of her kid. I think she’s gonna hang on long enough for him to cave in and just give her half of what it’s worth. Easiest way for him to get rid of her, and easiest way for her to get what’s legally hers.” Lucas sat down in a chair and pointed at the sketches. “Alright, see where this line meets this line? That’s where we park our car. This square box here is the outside building and next to it is the dumpster. We leave the car but can’t enter immediately onto the grounds of the bakery. First we have to climb a fence here and traverse this paddock which has absolutely no light shining on it. From there we’ll come to a tin shed that backs onto the bakery property. It’s like a completely left over thing from whatever was there previous to the bakery, but the fencing wasn’t put up around it properly and now there’s a gap that we can sneak through. Now, there’s only one light outside – not counting the light in the drop-off area – and it shines across the drive that the trucks use, but doesn’t reach to the dumpster. However, and here’s the catch, all the light in the drop-off area does reflect onto the dumpster so when the night shift is dumping their waste, they can see what they are doing. What we’re gonna do, is sneak along the side of the building and underneath the outside light. We’ll end up by some barrels near the entry to the drop-off area. No one can see us behind the barrels at night, so we don’t need to worry if anyone comes out.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, totally. Me and Jim already tested it a couple of nights ago.”
“Who’s Jim?”
“He’s our inside guy.”
“Can he be trusted?”
There was a weary look in his eyes. “Well, he does do the can a little bit too much, but other than that, sure!”
“The can?” This didn’t sound promising.
“Yeah. Y’ know – the aerosol can. Says he gets the most amazing highs from it. And occasionally some decent trips as well.”
I slapped my hand against my forehead. “You’ve gotta be kidding.” I had heard about kids doing the can. It was the sort of chemical high that people resorted to after everything else had become really boring, or they couldn’t afford anything else. “How long’s he been on it for?”
“Oh I’d say at least a couple of years.”
I wondered how the guy managed to still be a functioning human being.
“He’s a pretty funny guy when ya’ start talking to him though.”
“And he’s supposed to be the guy that’s gonna help us from the inside?”
“Dude, half the people who work there steal shit. Jim has been working his way up to this moment himself for ages. I think he was actually relieved to discover someone else that wanted to do a full-on stealing mission instead of just random handfuls of food here and there.”
I sat down looking at the drawings he had made but couldn’t distinguish anything that he had told me as something that was on the paper. “Okay,” I said. “It all seems pretty clear. We go in like tactical infantry.”
“But without the weapons.”
“We can pretend.”
“And the camo.”
“Not hard to come by.”
Lucas thought for a moment. “And without the tactical training.”
His cynical approach to this mission was starting to piss me off. “I said ‘like tactical infantry’. I mean it’s obvious that we aren’t, but we can at least make a good go of it.”
“Well, that’s true, I guess.”
“And anyway, I’ve been training on Tom Clancy games for almost two years now, and that guy knows his shit.”
“Fair enough. By the way, part of the mission is to don the overalls that Jim will bring out for us while he keeps watch on the entrance from the factory floor into the storage area.”
“Really? Can’t we just get in and then out while he keeps watch?”
“Look, if someone sees us, then we need to at least look like we’re supposed to be there.”
“Do we have to take the overalls off?”
“Well, nah, not really. I say just bolt with them on. We’ll get out quicker and have a free pair of overalls to boot.”
“Boots as well?”
“What?�
�
“Nothing.”
Part II
– Prep –
I was highly looking forward to this mission. It reminded me of Ghost Recon, which I used to play when I got bored with longer games. There was a briefing at the beginning of every mission which included a map layout of the area that you could always consult, and then you got to choose the soldiers that went on the mission with you. Unfortunately all I was getting was Lucas and some can addict named Jim who was supposed to be our inside man. I reloaded the game and started getting into character of the 1st Armoured Division.
One of the first few missions is to rescue a POW at night on a farm yard. It’s great because you start off in pitch-black and have to turn on your night-vision goggles so everything turns bright green. And then you have to direct your troops through some trees then down a gorge, across the river and up the other side without being seen. Then slowly sneak up on the barn while picking off the occasional guard as he strays far enough away that he won’t cause a scene as he falls. You get to be whatever officer you want, and could change each officer’s position at any time by entering their view-point and taking control of them. This essentially allowed more flexibility in terms of where you wanted each officer exactly, but if the officer you controlled at the time was killed, then you would be transferred to one of the other remaining officers – this kept happening until you occupied the last officer alive, and when he went down, so did the mission!
Probably the best thing about the game was the fact that you couldn’t seriously charge into situations, because you only had six men, and the enemy always outnumbered you, so you had to think about tactics: where to position your team members so they could automatically pick enemies off when in range; and when to hold fire so alarms weren’t triggered if the enemy sees one of their own going down. Probably the only game that I enjoyed this kind of challenge with.
I Am The Local Atheist Page 11