Wednesday, December 7, 2011

How To Rob A Bank

Robbing a bank would be easy if you worked there. This idea occurred to me one day on my lunch break. I was working a temp job at an insurance company, mostly filing. Word to the wise; if you need filing done, don't ever hire out this job to a temp agency, because temps don't give a bloody shit if the files are in the right spot or not.

I usually loved temping; not the actual jobs, just the idea of temping. Its the employment equivalent of a one-night-stand. Sometimes you would take an assignment that turned out to be so heinous that you would leave for lunch and never go back. Or maybe you would call the agency and bitch to them about how terrible the place is and they'd offer you fifty cents more an hour if you'll stick it out the whole week.

Office jobs tended to be the best because they required a minimal amount of actual work and had the least supervision. Best of all, offices have tons of stuff to snatch from kitchens and supply rooms. The first couple of days on the assignment you get familiar with the layout of the place and the usual schedule of who's coming and going. The third day was typically when I began to fill my pockets with an odd assortment of whatever could be found. Liquid paper, highlighters and Post-its from the supply closet and then coffee, tea and cup-o-soup packets from the break room.

When you're a temp there is no fear of "losing your job" and no worrying what your co-workers might think if you were caught stealing. All of the "regular" employees are the enemy and they treat you like a second-class citizen, a slave to whom they can pass on the crap-work that is beneath them to do. Keeping this in mind at all times provides the necessary emotional detachment to aide in the thieving as well. And, like any burglar worth his salt, by the time the crime is discovered you will be long gone. I am actually not usually prone to theft nor am I anti-establishment; but I won't lie, it was upsetting to work each day among others who acted as though they were better than you and were paid more than you and had far better benefits than you, (which is to say, none at all). I therefore considered my pilfering leveling the playing field. Sure, I didn't have major medical coverage, but my cabinets at home were stocked with hundreds if not thousands of dollars worth of Chock-Full-O-Nuts coffee.

Once, I remember hitting the mother-lode on a fill-in receptionist position for the executive offices at a bank. The job was a new low level of boredom the likes of which I had never seen or have yet to see again. Nobody ever called the three or so execs and on the two occasions that someone actually did, you simply transferred them to the extension and were done. There were nearly no employees on the entire second floor with me and next to no work to do all day long. On the morning of my first day, this woman, Nancy, was telling me the details of what I'd be doing for the next few days. "Oh, and help yourself to the executive pantry down the hall and the restrooms are a little further down." At least, I think she mentioned the restrooms, but can't be entirely sure, since I heard nothing after "Executive Pantry". At the first opportunity, I wandered down the hall to see if this little kitchen lived up to it's namesake. I walked in and I swear I heard angels singing as I was bathed in the warm glow of fluorescent light glimmering off of shelves lined with rows and rows of beautiful snacks. I nearly wept as I beheld Poptarts and Powerbars, Combos and Crispy Cremes, sweet rolls and donut holes. I finally came to and stuffed my pockets with the loot and casually strolled back to my desk with my coffee and a cheese danish, some of Little Debbie's finest work. It was lucky for me that most people just don't notice temps because those three days I was like Eddie Murphy in Flubber, I walked in all skinny in the morning and shuffled out the door 200 pounds heavier in the afternoon.