It was standard afternoon shift. I had been going about my day and things were actually turning out fairly well. Then I saw Mr. Big Stupid coming out of the men's restroom and my view on the day fell. I can't say for sure that Mr. Big Stupid was smirking upon his exit, but something about his manner sounded alarm bells in my head. I was also reminded that I hadn't checked the men's restroom for cleanliness since my arrival at work.
Sure enough, as soon as I walked in the door, bucket of cleaning products already in hand, I saw the dreaded sight and knew what Mr. Big Stupid had been smirking about. I marched back out the door, over to the circ desk and retrieved our temporary-signage folder from its hiding place. Seeing that my boss, Mrs. A, was standing nearby, I held up my "RESTROOM CLOSED, PLEASE USE DOWNSTAIRS RESTROOM" sign for her to see.
"What is it?" she said.
"Two words," I said. "Standing Urine."
"Oh, no."
Yes, indeedy, there was a wide puddle of urine covering much of the floor in front of the urinal. For the record, Mr. Big Stupid was not even a suspect, as he had been not present for the previous standing urine incident and had likely only been smirking at the knowledge that someone else would have to clean up what he'd just seen on the floor. Most likely the person responsible for the urine was one of our regular mentally handicapped patients from Unobstructed Doors.
After a brief search, I found our mop and mop bucket in housekeeping, filled the bucket with warm water, grabbed the Comet, affixed my sign to the bathroom door (if you don't put a sign on the door, patrons wander on in and, despite your obvious efforts to mop up the urine, they track through it anyway to leave some of their own) and headed in to do battle. Unfortunately, after using most of the Comet during the previous incident, there was less than half a tablespoon left in the container, so I then had to go back out and fetch our jug of bleach. Much diluting and sloshing ensued, followed by mopping, cursing under breath and vows to find the culprit and visit unspeakable punishments upon them. Soon the room was filled with bleach fumes. I began to suspect this wasn't a safe thing, so I went over to the restroom's window, intending to open it and help disperse the fumes.
First, a note about the restroom windows: I've mentioned recently how our architect had some rather dangerous ideas about how public buildings should operate and our new restrooms were a major part of that. When he designed the restrooms for our main floor, he included in them the exact same windows that had been installed in the rest of the building, which are very tall, sliding pane windows that allow in the greatest amount of light possible by being very very clear, with no window screens, but which also had venetian blinds in case, I presume, it got too bright to poop. Yes, that's right, the architect installed large, crystal clear windows in ground level restrooms both of which were in direct view of the parking lot. Now, granted, because of the way the interior of the restrooms were arranged, people on the outside would not be able to view people on the inside actually using toilets nor urinals through those windows, but they could certainly see people walking around and washing their hands (hopefully) after using said facilities. Regardless, the presence of those windows made the restrooms feel extremely non-private in a way the vast majority of public restrooms I've been in--including all of the ones I used in Central America, some of which were quite terrifying in other respects--don't. We also had to consider the unsavory possibility of someone like Chester setting up a damned chair outside the ladies' room and having himself an oggle-party. So, shortly before we opened, Mrs. A had Ms. D install some opaque window film over the lower section of both public restroom windows and that solved that.
So, seeking to release the bleach fumes from my particular restroom, I went to the window, raised the blinds and was about to unlatch the lower window pane when I discovered that someone had already unlatched it for my convenience. With barely any effort, I was able to raise the window to the full, open and unscreened position without having to unlatch it first.
"Oh, shit," I said. I then ran to find Mrs. A.
"We have a major problem in there," I said. "Beyond the urine," I added.
"What?" Mrs. A said.
I told her about the window and about my brand new theory that this very unlatched window was how our recent thieves could have gained after hours access to the building. All they had to do was unlatch the window during normal operating hours then come back later and hop on through. The only other possible excuse for it being unlatched, that I could think of, was if Mrs. J had unlatched it to let bleach fumes disperse the last time she'd mopped. The trouble is, Mrs. J is far too short to have reached the latches and has no sense of smell to alert her to the presence of fumes in the first place--which is why she often cannot smell if a mop is moldy and will just go right ahead and use these "ass mops" to do the floors, rendering the building equally assy.
Mrs. A was quite irritated, as windows that patrons can unlatch was a point she'd already raised with the architect back when the building was in the planning stages, a point he'd not been able to fathom. (That was also the same meeting where she raised the point about it being a bad idea to have crystal clear windows into said ground level bathrooms, a point that also went unfathomed.)
Now, here's where our "liberry" clubhouse junior detective skills went off the rails. While we immediately made it policy to check the latches on this and all other ground-level windows as part of normal closing duties, at no point did it occur to us to have the police come round to dust the window for possible prints. Granted, there's a good chance that the latches would only have contained the prints of either the staff or the shitty sub-contractors (a.k.a. the true criminals in this story), but there's a chance it could have nabbed the prints of the cash-box thieves as well. Instead, we just changed our closing policy and, within a few days, Mrs. A had Ms. D go around the building and seal all the ground-level windows shut with L-brackets to prevent this sort of thing in the future.
(TO BE CONTINUED...)
Showing posts with label "Liberry" Clubhouse Junior Detectives. Show all posts
Showing posts with label "Liberry" Clubhouse Junior Detectives. Show all posts
Friday, September 05, 2008
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
I've got another itch and the only thing that can cure it is more cowbell (Moving Days N)
Around nine months after we opened the new place, we had a pretty major incident of theft go down. We're not strangers to thievery at the "liberry," as seen in such previous incidents involving a member of the New Devil Twins' Auxiliary League of Neighborhood Kids, another involving such rogue patrons as Jimmy the Anonymous Snitch and the Amazing Bladder Boy, and one involving a former member of our staff, Miss E, who we're pretty sure made off with some money from the cash box four years back, but it's been a while.
The new incident came to my attention when I arrived for work on a Monday to find our cashbox empty of all cash. Ms. M was working the Monday with me and indicated that it was like that when she arrived for her shift on Sunday. She'd assumed that Mrs. A had taken it for some official reason, for the cashbox had been full and accounted for when Ms. M had left for the day on Saturday. This didn't seem at all right to me, though, because Mrs. A would have left a note had she taken the cash and there was not one. Ms. M then offered that perhaps the money had been taken by Mrs. C's kids, who had been in the library with Mrs. C Saturday evening when she came in with them to help set up our multi-purpose room for a Sunday program. She said Mrs. C's kids had been behind the desk at one point. They too seemed unlikely suspects, though, as they are toddlers and Mrs. C would surely have noticed them toddling around with $40 in cash and change.
This left us with a very unsettling probability; if the cash was present at closing on Saturday afternoon, but was missing at opening Sunday morning then it had likely been stolen in the interim. For that to have happened, the thieves either broke into the building somehow, gained access to the building via a door left unlocked, or they had found some place to hide in the building on Saturday, stole the money after Ms. M and Mrs. C had departed and then departed themselves. None of these were beyond the realm of possibility.
My best guess was that someone had snuck in after hours. See, thanks to some pretty shitty cost-cutting on the part of our building sub-contractors, the front doors of the new "liberry" were not of the strength and permanence one would hope for in exterior doors of a public building such as ours. The doors that were installed, you see, were actually doors designed to be used within the interior of a building and not as actual exterior doors. They were stout enough for interior doors and they work "okay" for exterior ones, but they're only passable at best. (And on that note, the interior foyer doors were none too solid, either, as the board that held one pneumatic hinge to the overall door frame was yanked from said frame one day by a 60-year-old woman. Turns out, when that particular board had been installed, the contractors hadn't used long enough screws to actually secure it into the foyer housing. "Thanks, shitty contractors!") Compounding the problem was the fact that these wrong doors had not been installed correctly to begin with, which made them very tricky to lock. They had to be aligned just right by hand or their locking bolts would not set into both the floor and ceiling shafts. If only one bolt was set, the doors could be popped open with only a little effort.
Once we realized the trickiness of our door's locking system, soon after we opened, we made it a point to teach and reteach all the staff the rituals involved in getting them properly locked. Even then, it still came back to bite us once in a while. Assuming that Ms. M had locked the doors correctly, someone in Mrs. C's function-setup-party might have exited that door and not known to double check it behind them.
The other possibilities mentioned were just as likely, but there was no real way to know how the thieves gained access to the money. Or so we thought. As it turns out, we now have a pretty good idea how it happened. And once again, our Junior "Liberry" Clubhouse Detectives' solution involves the bladder of one of our patrons.
(TO BE CONTINUED...)
The new incident came to my attention when I arrived for work on a Monday to find our cashbox empty of all cash. Ms. M was working the Monday with me and indicated that it was like that when she arrived for her shift on Sunday. She'd assumed that Mrs. A had taken it for some official reason, for the cashbox had been full and accounted for when Ms. M had left for the day on Saturday. This didn't seem at all right to me, though, because Mrs. A would have left a note had she taken the cash and there was not one. Ms. M then offered that perhaps the money had been taken by Mrs. C's kids, who had been in the library with Mrs. C Saturday evening when she came in with them to help set up our multi-purpose room for a Sunday program. She said Mrs. C's kids had been behind the desk at one point. They too seemed unlikely suspects, though, as they are toddlers and Mrs. C would surely have noticed them toddling around with $40 in cash and change.
This left us with a very unsettling probability; if the cash was present at closing on Saturday afternoon, but was missing at opening Sunday morning then it had likely been stolen in the interim. For that to have happened, the thieves either broke into the building somehow, gained access to the building via a door left unlocked, or they had found some place to hide in the building on Saturday, stole the money after Ms. M and Mrs. C had departed and then departed themselves. None of these were beyond the realm of possibility.
My best guess was that someone had snuck in after hours. See, thanks to some pretty shitty cost-cutting on the part of our building sub-contractors, the front doors of the new "liberry" were not of the strength and permanence one would hope for in exterior doors of a public building such as ours. The doors that were installed, you see, were actually doors designed to be used within the interior of a building and not as actual exterior doors. They were stout enough for interior doors and they work "okay" for exterior ones, but they're only passable at best. (And on that note, the interior foyer doors were none too solid, either, as the board that held one pneumatic hinge to the overall door frame was yanked from said frame one day by a 60-year-old woman. Turns out, when that particular board had been installed, the contractors hadn't used long enough screws to actually secure it into the foyer housing. "Thanks, shitty contractors!") Compounding the problem was the fact that these wrong doors had not been installed correctly to begin with, which made them very tricky to lock. They had to be aligned just right by hand or their locking bolts would not set into both the floor and ceiling shafts. If only one bolt was set, the doors could be popped open with only a little effort.
Once we realized the trickiness of our door's locking system, soon after we opened, we made it a point to teach and reteach all the staff the rituals involved in getting them properly locked. Even then, it still came back to bite us once in a while. Assuming that Ms. M had locked the doors correctly, someone in Mrs. C's function-setup-party might have exited that door and not known to double check it behind them.
The other possibilities mentioned were just as likely, but there was no real way to know how the thieves gained access to the money. Or so we thought. As it turns out, we now have a pretty good idea how it happened. And once again, our Junior "Liberry" Clubhouse Detectives' solution involves the bladder of one of our patrons.
(TO BE CONTINUED...)
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
PATRON FIIIIIGHT!!!
"You missed all the fun on Friday," Ms. M told me upon my arrival for work Monday. "We had a fight."
"A fight?!" I said, practically salivating that fisticuffs were engaged in and wondering what on earth could have caused a "liberry" throw down. Maybe someone finally hit Gene Gene the Geneal0gy Machine in the mouth? Maybe Parka came back and got into a fight with Mr. Creepy Guy over which one of them was rightfully the skeeveist? Maybe there was some sort of Mr. Stanky and Bear Piss Man Vs. the Sweatiest Woman in all the Land and Mr. Stankier tag-team stank off?
"What happened? What happened?" I asked.
Ms. M shrugged. "I don't know," she said.
"You... you don't know?"
"Nope."
Perhaps after seeing my confused expression, Ms. M then explained that on Friday, while everyone else was out at lunch and she was running things solo, there had been two adult women in the library who apparently got into some sort of intense disagreement with one another and decided to take it outside. Evidently it was the least disruptive intense disagreement in the history of such things, because despite the fact that they and Ms. M were all essentially in the same room, Ms. M's first and only clue that anything was amiss came when a police officer entered the building twenty minutes later to inquire what Ms. M might have witnessed of the fight.
"There was a fight?" she reportedly asked.
"Yeah. In the parking lot. You didn't see it?" the no doubt surprised officer reportedly then said. After Ms. M admitted her cluelessness, he went on to say that, according to the ladies themselves, they'd started out arguing in the library and then resolved to take their argument outside and transition it into one of a more physical nature. Ms. M told the officer that she never heard any raised voices, nor saw any other indication that anyone was unhappy with anyone else inside the library or out. It was all news to her. The officer took her statement and went away.
Later in the day, the husband of one of the ladies phoned the library and spoke to Ms. M to apologize on behalf of his wife for causing such a ruckus. Ms. M assured him it was fine and that she hadn't actually noticed any of it, had no idea what it was about and didn't need to know.
This, of course, just pissed the rest of us right off, cause if there's going to be fighting in the "liberry" we damn well want to A) see it for ourselves, or B) get all the juicy details about it otherwise. Ms. M had clearly fallen down in her duties as a member of the "Liberry" Clubhouse Junior Detectives and/or "Liberry" Junior Gossip-Observers League.
Mrs. A has now vowed to use her connections in the police department to learn the details, but so far everyone is keeping mum.
"A fight?!" I said, practically salivating that fisticuffs were engaged in and wondering what on earth could have caused a "liberry" throw down. Maybe someone finally hit Gene Gene the Geneal0gy Machine in the mouth? Maybe Parka came back and got into a fight with Mr. Creepy Guy over which one of them was rightfully the skeeveist? Maybe there was some sort of Mr. Stanky and Bear Piss Man Vs. the Sweatiest Woman in all the Land and Mr. Stankier tag-team stank off?
"What happened? What happened?" I asked.
Ms. M shrugged. "I don't know," she said.
"You... you don't know?"
"Nope."
Perhaps after seeing my confused expression, Ms. M then explained that on Friday, while everyone else was out at lunch and she was running things solo, there had been two adult women in the library who apparently got into some sort of intense disagreement with one another and decided to take it outside. Evidently it was the least disruptive intense disagreement in the history of such things, because despite the fact that they and Ms. M were all essentially in the same room, Ms. M's first and only clue that anything was amiss came when a police officer entered the building twenty minutes later to inquire what Ms. M might have witnessed of the fight.
"There was a fight?" she reportedly asked.
"Yeah. In the parking lot. You didn't see it?" the no doubt surprised officer reportedly then said. After Ms. M admitted her cluelessness, he went on to say that, according to the ladies themselves, they'd started out arguing in the library and then resolved to take their argument outside and transition it into one of a more physical nature. Ms. M told the officer that she never heard any raised voices, nor saw any other indication that anyone was unhappy with anyone else inside the library or out. It was all news to her. The officer took her statement and went away.
Later in the day, the husband of one of the ladies phoned the library and spoke to Ms. M to apologize on behalf of his wife for causing such a ruckus. Ms. M assured him it was fine and that she hadn't actually noticed any of it, had no idea what it was about and didn't need to know.
This, of course, just pissed the rest of us right off, cause if there's going to be fighting in the "liberry" we damn well want to A) see it for ourselves, or B) get all the juicy details about it otherwise. Ms. M had clearly fallen down in her duties as a member of the "Liberry" Clubhouse Junior Detectives and/or "Liberry" Junior Gossip-Observers League.
Mrs. A has now vowed to use her connections in the police department to learn the details, but so far everyone is keeping mum.
Sunday, May 09, 2004
Fate (and the Law) finally catches up to Jimmy the "Anonymous" Snitch
After darn nigh three months of down-time, there is a bit of movement for the Junior "Liberry" Detectives and the Case of the Illustrious Bladder Thieves.
It seems that Jimmy the "Anonymous" Snitch, the man whose friend and lover/hater The Amazing (Bashful) Bladderboy, (a.k.a. our prime suspect in the theft of the "liberry's" laptop computer last January), is about to go up the river. Not, as you might expect, for having a role in the theft of the library's laptop, but instead for embezzlement from a local fast-food restaurant at which he had been previously employed.
Jimmy's had something of a long history with embezzling from various employers. He'd been to trial once before for embezzlement charges, but from a different restaurant. In fact, our very own Mrs. C served on Jimmy's jury and firmly believed that he was guilty but the prosecution's evidence left more room for doubt than the jury was able to handle so Jimmy walked free and went on to be hired by the above mentioned fast food restaurant. They wound up firing him in 2003 on suspicion of embezzling over $1000 and this is the matter that finally came to trial last week. Jimmy now faces 1 to 10 years in the slammer.
In his trial, Jimmy wound up entering a Kennedy Plea, which means he admits no wrongdoing but is still adjudged guilty by the court and sentenced as such.
Still no word on what became of our laptop, nor of any further cooperation from Jimmy in the matter. Seeing what he knew he was facing, though, it's no wonder he wanted to come forward and rat out his friend who took it. He didn't need any more heat on him. Unfortunately, he seems to have fizzled out when it came to actually cooperating with the authorities (perhaps because we, in turn, ratted him out to them, and didn't allow him to remain anonymous in the matter, as he so desired) so we'll likely never see the computer again.
Than again, after his sentencing in July, it'll probably be a while before we see Jimmy again either.
It seems that Jimmy the "Anonymous" Snitch, the man whose friend and lover/hater The Amazing (Bashful) Bladderboy, (a.k.a. our prime suspect in the theft of the "liberry's" laptop computer last January), is about to go up the river. Not, as you might expect, for having a role in the theft of the library's laptop, but instead for embezzlement from a local fast-food restaurant at which he had been previously employed.
Jimmy's had something of a long history with embezzling from various employers. He'd been to trial once before for embezzlement charges, but from a different restaurant. In fact, our very own Mrs. C served on Jimmy's jury and firmly believed that he was guilty but the prosecution's evidence left more room for doubt than the jury was able to handle so Jimmy walked free and went on to be hired by the above mentioned fast food restaurant. They wound up firing him in 2003 on suspicion of embezzling over $1000 and this is the matter that finally came to trial last week. Jimmy now faces 1 to 10 years in the slammer.
In his trial, Jimmy wound up entering a Kennedy Plea, which means he admits no wrongdoing but is still adjudged guilty by the court and sentenced as such.
Still no word on what became of our laptop, nor of any further cooperation from Jimmy in the matter. Seeing what he knew he was facing, though, it's no wonder he wanted to come forward and rat out his friend who took it. He didn't need any more heat on him. Unfortunately, he seems to have fizzled out when it came to actually cooperating with the authorities (perhaps because we, in turn, ratted him out to them, and didn't allow him to remain anonymous in the matter, as he so desired) so we'll likely never see the computer again.
Than again, after his sentencing in July, it'll probably be a while before we see Jimmy again either.
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
More Tales of the Bladder Thieves
Both the official and unofficial investigations into the theft of the "liberry's" laptop are going frustratingly slow. [See Legion of Evil Doers (with Bashful Bladders), Tales of the Bladder Thief and Drama, Drama, Drama to find out where we last left our Junior "Liberry" Detectives.]
The suspects in the case, Jimmy the "Anonymous" Snitch and the Amazing Bladderboy, continue to flaunt their guilt by coming in to use the computers. Actually, only Jimmy uses the computers; Bladderboy usually goes upstairs, (where I'm happy to say he's found the upstairs restroom annoyingly locked at all times, should he have attempted to get into it), or sits in a chair near the computers.
It annoys me tremendously that they do this, mostly because I'm not allowed to give them dirty looks and make snide comments about their not needing to use our computers since they already stole our #$!%ing laptop, as I don't want to tip-off Bladderboy that we're onto him, prompting him to ditch any incriminating evidence, or, as is the case, tip off the current possessor of our laptop into ditching it.
Herein lies the problem. According to Jimmy the Snitch's original anonymous letter, the laptop is no longer even in Bladderboy's possession, as he's already passed it off to a third party friend.
Meanwhile, there's been little word from the police as to whether they've contacted Jimmy the Snitch regarding his anonymous note to us claiming he knows who horked our laptop and that he's willing to turn-in said weak-bladdered asshole and his third party friend. Mrs. A decided to simply confront Jimmy the Snitch about the matter.
One day when Jimmy was in, sans Bladderboy, Mrs. A drug him up to her office and put the question to him: Are you gonna piss or get off the pot? I'm paraphrasing, of course, but that's the gist. Was Jimmy planning to get off his ass and rat out his thieving friends any time soon so we might have some hope of getting our laptop back?
Jimmy whined that the third party friend who has the laptop is out of town at the moment, but would be coming back and at such a time Jimmy thinks he can probably get the laptop and get it back to us. Mrs. A pointed out that this might lead to an asskicking or worse if Jimmy's friends ever noted that we had our laptop back. He didn't seem to concerned, which leads me to think he no longer has any intentions of helping us and is just trying to pacify Mrs. A. I say this because we know that Jimmy frequently gets beat up. We presume that Bladderboy is the one doing the beating, but we don't know that for sure.
(Of course, my solution to all this would be to inform Jimmy that if he doesn't hurry up and rat his thieving friends out, we're going to inform his thieving friends of his treachery against them and let them all sort it out on their own with their own methods. Unfortunately, this might lead to Jimmy's death and/or dismemberment, so I can't in good conscience go through with such a plan.)
Jimmy tried to assure Mrs. A that he didn't think his third party friend would try to sell the laptop, or if he did he might try to pawn it somewhere. (I imagine the police have thought of this.)
Unfortunately, our own Junior Detective work has lead to the discovery that the Compaq laptop serial number Jimmy quoted in his anonymous note is not in fact a serial number from a Compaq laptop at all, but is, at best, the part number from a Compaq laptop battery. (Asshole!) We have since confirmed the actual serial number of our laptop, after an irritatingly long time spent on the phone with Compaq, so if the police ever find the damned thing they can match it all up.
As to whether Jimmy's third party friend is planning to sell it, that's still up in the air. In fact, a startlingly similar Compaq notebook has appeared in the local want-ads of the paper. Mrs. A called the number of the guy who's selling it and asked him a few pointed questions as to what model it is. She managed to get a model number out of him on the pretense that she wanted to look it up on Compaq's website.
Now this is where it gets even foggier and more frustrating... As of this writing, I don't know if Mrs. A or Mrs. C has actually looked up the laptop to see if it's even the same kind as was stolen from us. I also don't know if they've passed this info on to the police. I'm hoping they have, but things have moved rather slow in that direction thus far and Mrs. A was not around for me to ask. Here's hoping Thursday goes better.
The suspects in the case, Jimmy the "Anonymous" Snitch and the Amazing Bladderboy, continue to flaunt their guilt by coming in to use the computers. Actually, only Jimmy uses the computers; Bladderboy usually goes upstairs, (where I'm happy to say he's found the upstairs restroom annoyingly locked at all times, should he have attempted to get into it), or sits in a chair near the computers.
It annoys me tremendously that they do this, mostly because I'm not allowed to give them dirty looks and make snide comments about their not needing to use our computers since they already stole our #$!%ing laptop, as I don't want to tip-off Bladderboy that we're onto him, prompting him to ditch any incriminating evidence, or, as is the case, tip off the current possessor of our laptop into ditching it.
Herein lies the problem. According to Jimmy the Snitch's original anonymous letter, the laptop is no longer even in Bladderboy's possession, as he's already passed it off to a third party friend.
Meanwhile, there's been little word from the police as to whether they've contacted Jimmy the Snitch regarding his anonymous note to us claiming he knows who horked our laptop and that he's willing to turn-in said weak-bladdered asshole and his third party friend. Mrs. A decided to simply confront Jimmy the Snitch about the matter.
One day when Jimmy was in, sans Bladderboy, Mrs. A drug him up to her office and put the question to him: Are you gonna piss or get off the pot? I'm paraphrasing, of course, but that's the gist. Was Jimmy planning to get off his ass and rat out his thieving friends any time soon so we might have some hope of getting our laptop back?
Jimmy whined that the third party friend who has the laptop is out of town at the moment, but would be coming back and at such a time Jimmy thinks he can probably get the laptop and get it back to us. Mrs. A pointed out that this might lead to an asskicking or worse if Jimmy's friends ever noted that we had our laptop back. He didn't seem to concerned, which leads me to think he no longer has any intentions of helping us and is just trying to pacify Mrs. A. I say this because we know that Jimmy frequently gets beat up. We presume that Bladderboy is the one doing the beating, but we don't know that for sure.
(Of course, my solution to all this would be to inform Jimmy that if he doesn't hurry up and rat his thieving friends out, we're going to inform his thieving friends of his treachery against them and let them all sort it out on their own with their own methods. Unfortunately, this might lead to Jimmy's death and/or dismemberment, so I can't in good conscience go through with such a plan.)
Jimmy tried to assure Mrs. A that he didn't think his third party friend would try to sell the laptop, or if he did he might try to pawn it somewhere. (I imagine the police have thought of this.)
Unfortunately, our own Junior Detective work has lead to the discovery that the Compaq laptop serial number Jimmy quoted in his anonymous note is not in fact a serial number from a Compaq laptop at all, but is, at best, the part number from a Compaq laptop battery. (Asshole!) We have since confirmed the actual serial number of our laptop, after an irritatingly long time spent on the phone with Compaq, so if the police ever find the damned thing they can match it all up.
As to whether Jimmy's third party friend is planning to sell it, that's still up in the air. In fact, a startlingly similar Compaq notebook has appeared in the local want-ads of the paper. Mrs. A called the number of the guy who's selling it and asked him a few pointed questions as to what model it is. She managed to get a model number out of him on the pretense that she wanted to look it up on Compaq's website.
Now this is where it gets even foggier and more frustrating... As of this writing, I don't know if Mrs. A or Mrs. C has actually looked up the laptop to see if it's even the same kind as was stolen from us. I also don't know if they've passed this info on to the police. I'm hoping they have, but things have moved rather slow in that direction thus far and Mrs. A was not around for me to ask. Here's hoping Thursday goes better.
Thursday, February 05, 2004
Drama Drama Drama
Okay. We've had a lot of drama at the liberry lately, but today really pushed it to a new level.
Remember a couple weeks back when we had our laptop stolen? Remember how, clever Junior Detectives that we are, we had narrowed down the list of suspects to two people, one of which had been a daily computer user UNTIL the theft of the laptop? Well there have been new developments in the case and we've FINALLY called the police about it.
Now, mind you, the entire "liberry" staff has been BEGGING Mrs. A to call the cops about the theft since it all went down. I don't know why she didn't want to, unless maybe it's because all our evidence as to who did it was based on a hunch. Thankfully, hunches have now been abandoned.
Today, (before I arrived, of course), one of our key suspects came in and asked if he could speak with my fellow Liberry Ass. Mrs. B in private outside. Let's call him Jimmy the Snitch. So Jimmy tells Mrs. B that he knows who took the laptop and he wants to turn the person in but he wishes to remain anonymous while he does it. He said that he didn't learn of the theft of the laptop for four days after it occurred and once he found out about it he decided he wanted no part of it. According to Jimmy, the laptop's hard drive has been wiped clean and has actually been given to a third party at this point by the second party who originally stole it. Jimmy is willing to provide evidence about the laptop, but he's scared and doesn't want the second party--let's call him The Amazing Bladderboy, as it was his bashful bladder that lead him to our private bathroom where the laptop was stored in the first place--to learn that Jimmy was the one who'd snitched on him. Jimmy also doesn't want the cops to think HE had anything to do with it because Jimmy the Snitch has a long history with the local law enforcement already. He's been brought up on embezzlement charges and taken to court on more than one occasion, including one several years ago where our own Mrs. C served on his jury and was only unable to help convict his ass that time because the evidence was too weak.
You think the drama's flying thick yet? Oh, no. It gets better.
Not only are Jimmy the Snitch and the Amazing Bladderboy friends... they are also LOVERS! Well, maybe WERE is the more appropriate word here...
Still, the fact that they ever were leads me to ask the question, what the hell is it with our library and half-assed gay master-criminals? I mean, we already had the Untalented Mr. Ripley and the Even Less Talented Mr. Ripley... now we've got Jimmy & Bladderboy too?
So anyways... Jimmy not only tells Mrs. B he knows who took the laptop, but he gives her a nice typed up anonymous note to that effect too. It even includes the make and serial number of the laptop for added authenticity. Pretty sweet no? What he doesn't give is the name of the person who took it, i.e. Bladderboy. Then Jimmy the Snitch leaves, saying that if the police are interested he's willing to cooperate.
Mrs. C calls Mrs. A, who's out of town, to let her know all of this and Mrs. A finally relents and tells Mrs. C to call the cops and get the ball rolling on the official investigation (I guess since we've already pretty much wrapped up the un-official one). So Mrs. C calls a guy on the force that she knows, but has to leave a message for him as he's out.
Bout this time, I amble in and hear the above sordid details. I say I figure Jimmy's probably telling the truth about not being in on the laptop's theft since he knows full well that Mrs. C works there and that she had served on the jury against him all those years before and has no great love for him in the first place so she would most certainly suspect his previously-nearly-convicted ass of stealing the laptop in the first place, which is exactly what had happened. Makes sense to me, at least.
Now it's all pretty dramatic up to this point. You'd think we were bout drama'd out for the day, no? Uh uh.
"Isn't that the guy?" Mrs. B said from her position by the liberry's front window.
A moment later the door bumps open and Bladderboy himself comes in. Not only that, but he looks SUPER PISSED. He stalks through our main room and then back toward the computer hall where he has a look at the people there. Evidently he was looking for buddy Jimmy, who wasn't there, so he stalks back through and out the door. Mrs. B, still at the window, quickly notes Bladderboy's license plate number as he drives off, earning her yet another gold star on her Junior Detective Score Card.
By mid afternoon we'd finally gotten through to Mrs. C's policeman friend and he came down to take possession of the anonymous note from Jimmy, plus Bladderboy's license number and to hear our version of the whole matter.
"Wow. You all are doing some detective work here," the officer said.
"Are you kidding? This place is information central," I told him.
"So I should probably be coming up here for tips more often?"
"Oh, yeah."
TO BE CONTINUED...
Remember a couple weeks back when we had our laptop stolen? Remember how, clever Junior Detectives that we are, we had narrowed down the list of suspects to two people, one of which had been a daily computer user UNTIL the theft of the laptop? Well there have been new developments in the case and we've FINALLY called the police about it.
Now, mind you, the entire "liberry" staff has been BEGGING Mrs. A to call the cops about the theft since it all went down. I don't know why she didn't want to, unless maybe it's because all our evidence as to who did it was based on a hunch. Thankfully, hunches have now been abandoned.
Today, (before I arrived, of course), one of our key suspects came in and asked if he could speak with my fellow Liberry Ass. Mrs. B in private outside. Let's call him Jimmy the Snitch. So Jimmy tells Mrs. B that he knows who took the laptop and he wants to turn the person in but he wishes to remain anonymous while he does it. He said that he didn't learn of the theft of the laptop for four days after it occurred and once he found out about it he decided he wanted no part of it. According to Jimmy, the laptop's hard drive has been wiped clean and has actually been given to a third party at this point by the second party who originally stole it. Jimmy is willing to provide evidence about the laptop, but he's scared and doesn't want the second party--let's call him The Amazing Bladderboy, as it was his bashful bladder that lead him to our private bathroom where the laptop was stored in the first place--to learn that Jimmy was the one who'd snitched on him. Jimmy also doesn't want the cops to think HE had anything to do with it because Jimmy the Snitch has a long history with the local law enforcement already. He's been brought up on embezzlement charges and taken to court on more than one occasion, including one several years ago where our own Mrs. C served on his jury and was only unable to help convict his ass that time because the evidence was too weak.
You think the drama's flying thick yet? Oh, no. It gets better.
Not only are Jimmy the Snitch and the Amazing Bladderboy friends... they are also LOVERS! Well, maybe WERE is the more appropriate word here...
Still, the fact that they ever were leads me to ask the question, what the hell is it with our library and half-assed gay master-criminals? I mean, we already had the Untalented Mr. Ripley and the Even Less Talented Mr. Ripley... now we've got Jimmy & Bladderboy too?
So anyways... Jimmy not only tells Mrs. B he knows who took the laptop, but he gives her a nice typed up anonymous note to that effect too. It even includes the make and serial number of the laptop for added authenticity. Pretty sweet no? What he doesn't give is the name of the person who took it, i.e. Bladderboy. Then Jimmy the Snitch leaves, saying that if the police are interested he's willing to cooperate.
Mrs. C calls Mrs. A, who's out of town, to let her know all of this and Mrs. A finally relents and tells Mrs. C to call the cops and get the ball rolling on the official investigation (I guess since we've already pretty much wrapped up the un-official one). So Mrs. C calls a guy on the force that she knows, but has to leave a message for him as he's out.
Bout this time, I amble in and hear the above sordid details. I say I figure Jimmy's probably telling the truth about not being in on the laptop's theft since he knows full well that Mrs. C works there and that she had served on the jury against him all those years before and has no great love for him in the first place so she would most certainly suspect his previously-nearly-convicted ass of stealing the laptop in the first place, which is exactly what had happened. Makes sense to me, at least.
Now it's all pretty dramatic up to this point. You'd think we were bout drama'd out for the day, no? Uh uh.
"Isn't that the guy?" Mrs. B said from her position by the liberry's front window.
A moment later the door bumps open and Bladderboy himself comes in. Not only that, but he looks SUPER PISSED. He stalks through our main room and then back toward the computer hall where he has a look at the people there. Evidently he was looking for buddy Jimmy, who wasn't there, so he stalks back through and out the door. Mrs. B, still at the window, quickly notes Bladderboy's license plate number as he drives off, earning her yet another gold star on her Junior Detective Score Card.
By mid afternoon we'd finally gotten through to Mrs. C's policeman friend and he came down to take possession of the anonymous note from Jimmy, plus Bladderboy's license number and to hear our version of the whole matter.
"Wow. You all are doing some detective work here," the officer said.
"Are you kidding? This place is information central," I told him.
"So I should probably be coming up here for tips more often?"
"Oh, yeah."
TO BE CONTINUED...
Monday, January 26, 2004
Tales of the Bladder Thief
Since the theft of the library's laptop from
the "private" upstairs bathroom by presumed bashful bladder-bearing
thieves, the "liberry" staff have all become Junior Clubhouse Detectives and extry security conscious.
From what we've been able to piece together, the laptop was likely stolen on Monday afternoon. We have confirmation from Mrs. A's significant other, Mr. A, who was working in the area and dropped by Monday to use our facilities, that the laptop was indeed in the restroom when he stopped in. And as we don't open til 1 on Mondays, the theft would have had to have occurred between 1 and when we closed at 5 p.m. when Mrs. C noticed that the restroom door was slightly and atypically ajar.
We've now narrowed down the list of suspects quite a bit and have our eye on two particular patrons as the would-be thieves. Until Monday, one of these two patrons was an almost daily user of our computers. Since Monday, we've not seen the man at all, nor his friend who occasionally comes in with him and who WAS with him and WAS upstairs quite a bit on the day in question. Our theory is that his friend, seeking a quiet and more private place to have a wee, popped into the upstairs restroom, did his business and noticed the laptop. From there they might have smuggled it out in a coat or just hoofed it out the back door.
Course it might not be them at all, but the main suspect does have quite the local history with run-ins with the law.
We've also decided to crack down on whoever has been stealing our magazines. I've already theorized that it's Chester the (Potential) Molester, scoring himself some PG-rated skin-mags in the form of Teen People and Parents, but we've yet to actually prove it.
So last Thursday, I decided to pop down to the corner market store and pick up one of their gargantuan club salads for dinner. (I love them dearly because the market doesn't skimp on the toppings. It's loaded down with sliced ham, eggs, bacon, tomatoes and all the things that make a great club salad. Plus, after 15 minutes of steadily eating it, the salad will not have gotten noticeably smaller. That's a good salad.) On my way out the door to get my salad, though, who should I see coming up the walk but Chester himself. I turned right back around and stayed put in the library where I could keep an eye on him. After all, there were a few kids in the library, all watched closely by parents thankfully, but I wasn't letting Chester out of my sight while kids were about.
Chester made his traditional walk-through, starting in the kids room, where he did cast a curious glance at one of the pre-teen girls, but he headed on into the computer hall and down toward the restroom. (I hate to think what he might do in there, particularly since I'm usually the guy who has to clean the restroom.)
Mrs. A saw him go through and told me she was going upstairs to do a quick inventory of the magazines on the rack so we could see what wasn't there after he went by. We were hoping to catch him in the act. Unfortunately, Chester only stopped at the water fountain and managed to get back to the stairs before Mrs. A could make it to them herself. So she followed him up and noted that he had a very pregnant pause by the magazine rack before he noticed that she was watching him. He quickly grabbed a college financial aid form and headed into the non-fiction room. Mrs. A followed right behind him and pretended to be sorting the books on the book cart until Chester had finished with his upstairs walk-through and went back into the stairwell/magazine area. She popped around the corner just in time to see him pausing again at the magazine rack, but he saw her and immediately broke off and went down the stairs where I saw him cast another quick glance at the little girl in the kid's room, then saw him see me see him do it after which he made a bee-line for the front door.
"I think you're right. He has been stealing the magazines," Mrs. A told me later.
Damn, I thought. I sure hope we don't bust him for magazine theft. That's like busting Al Capone for tax evasion when you know he's been bootlegging and worse.
With our new security measures in place, the upstairs restroom is no longer left unlocked at any given moment and we have now begun tallying our cashbox at the end of the day. It seems that it too has come up a bit short as of late and we're trying to avoid a repeat of previous cashbox adventures, such as the ones we had with a former Liberry Rogue called the Untalented Mr. Ripley.
TO BE CONTINUED...
From what we've been able to piece together, the laptop was likely stolen on Monday afternoon. We have confirmation from Mrs. A's significant other, Mr. A, who was working in the area and dropped by Monday to use our facilities, that the laptop was indeed in the restroom when he stopped in. And as we don't open til 1 on Mondays, the theft would have had to have occurred between 1 and when we closed at 5 p.m. when Mrs. C noticed that the restroom door was slightly and atypically ajar.
We've now narrowed down the list of suspects quite a bit and have our eye on two particular patrons as the would-be thieves. Until Monday, one of these two patrons was an almost daily user of our computers. Since Monday, we've not seen the man at all, nor his friend who occasionally comes in with him and who WAS with him and WAS upstairs quite a bit on the day in question. Our theory is that his friend, seeking a quiet and more private place to have a wee, popped into the upstairs restroom, did his business and noticed the laptop. From there they might have smuggled it out in a coat or just hoofed it out the back door.
Course it might not be them at all, but the main suspect does have quite the local history with run-ins with the law.
We've also decided to crack down on whoever has been stealing our magazines. I've already theorized that it's Chester the (Potential) Molester, scoring himself some PG-rated skin-mags in the form of Teen People and Parents, but we've yet to actually prove it.
So last Thursday, I decided to pop down to the corner market store and pick up one of their gargantuan club salads for dinner. (I love them dearly because the market doesn't skimp on the toppings. It's loaded down with sliced ham, eggs, bacon, tomatoes and all the things that make a great club salad. Plus, after 15 minutes of steadily eating it, the salad will not have gotten noticeably smaller. That's a good salad.) On my way out the door to get my salad, though, who should I see coming up the walk but Chester himself. I turned right back around and stayed put in the library where I could keep an eye on him. After all, there were a few kids in the library, all watched closely by parents thankfully, but I wasn't letting Chester out of my sight while kids were about.
Chester made his traditional walk-through, starting in the kids room, where he did cast a curious glance at one of the pre-teen girls, but he headed on into the computer hall and down toward the restroom. (I hate to think what he might do in there, particularly since I'm usually the guy who has to clean the restroom.)
Mrs. A saw him go through and told me she was going upstairs to do a quick inventory of the magazines on the rack so we could see what wasn't there after he went by. We were hoping to catch him in the act. Unfortunately, Chester only stopped at the water fountain and managed to get back to the stairs before Mrs. A could make it to them herself. So she followed him up and noted that he had a very pregnant pause by the magazine rack before he noticed that she was watching him. He quickly grabbed a college financial aid form and headed into the non-fiction room. Mrs. A followed right behind him and pretended to be sorting the books on the book cart until Chester had finished with his upstairs walk-through and went back into the stairwell/magazine area. She popped around the corner just in time to see him pausing again at the magazine rack, but he saw her and immediately broke off and went down the stairs where I saw him cast another quick glance at the little girl in the kid's room, then saw him see me see him do it after which he made a bee-line for the front door.
"I think you're right. He has been stealing the magazines," Mrs. A told me later.
Damn, I thought. I sure hope we don't bust him for magazine theft. That's like busting Al Capone for tax evasion when you know he's been bootlegging and worse.
With our new security measures in place, the upstairs restroom is no longer left unlocked at any given moment and we have now begun tallying our cashbox at the end of the day. It seems that it too has come up a bit short as of late and we're trying to avoid a repeat of previous cashbox adventures, such as the ones we had with a former Liberry Rogue called the Untalented Mr. Ripley.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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