Events in the office last week – events I happen to find mildly amusing – have reminded me of a great story from my very first job: Burger King. You see, last week, a mystery person came into our church outside of our business hours, messed with some ceiling tiles near the office, and left with nary a trace. A big investigation by KCC’s own Scooby Doo Detective Agency ensued, but with little to no forensic evidence, a culprit has not been identified. Since the person had a key to get in the building, one must assume it was an inside job, even though no one has concluded what that job was.
I know of at least one other time a perp has not been identified at a place I was working. I was scheduled to work at Burger King at 6:30 AM on a Saturday morning when I was 16. I walked to work, which I usually did, because it was just down the road. My manager’s car was in the parking lot when I got there, so I knocked on the door. She didn’t come, so I knocked louder. I walked around the building, because she was a chain smoker, and even though she would have only been there for 5 minutes or so, the chances that she was out back smoking were pretty good. She wasn’t there, though. I went over to the the drive thru window and pulled on it; it opened. I immediately heard some weird hum. I called inside for her, but she still didn’t answer. I was about to climb in through the drive thru window when the alarm went off. I did what any other 16 year old boy would do: I ran off.
I ran across the street to 7-11, and being the pop addict that my dad is, he just happened to show up. He asked why I wasn’t at work, I told him, and he agreed to drive me back. There were two cop cars there, and by then my manager really had shown up. I didn’t say a word, because my boss was very angry. The closing crew got a pretty good chewing out for leaving the drive thru window unlocked. My manager constantly complained about that day and the $75 it cost for the alarm going off, and she always said that she wished she knew who was responsible, so she could fire them. She meant if she knew which night person was responsible for locking the window, she would fire that person, but I had a pretty good feeling that if I had admitted it was me, I would have been fired. So I let it remain a mystery. I worked there for another year, all the while having to listen to theories on the hamburglar, what his purpose was, why nothing was missing, and how good it was that the alarm scared him off.
I may be the mystery hamburglar, but it wasn’t me last week. I’m too short to reach up to the ceiling tiles near the office.