Saturday, March 1, 2008
When you first start working for a guard company, they usually send you to different locations until they find one that fits you or one that they have trouble filling. Unfortunately, most time of the time, it’s the latter of the two.
During this moving period, you meet some cool people. I met a fat guy who worked with me at a gated community one night. He told me all about the company and the good places to ask to work on a permanent basis.
They had given me a schedule for the week. Each day was at a different location, so, I showed it to him and he looked it over. When he got to my fourth day, he told me he didn’t like that post because it was at a cemetery.
He told me the reason they had guards there overnight was, people would steal the flowers from the graves and then resell them. That’s pretty sad but there are some screwed up people in this world.
He also told me, on the property at the top of the hill, was a crematory, that the son of the guy who owned it was pretty much a wacko. He said the son had been seen driving by the guard shack with dead bodies sitting in the front seat, and that was why they had a hard time keeping permanent guards there.
By the time he finished his story, I was thinking I’d probably call in sick that day and leave it to someone else to work. Luckily for me, he told me that, at night, they always had two guards working, instead of one, like the day shift. Whew! That was a relief.
The day came for me to work at the cemetery and something told me to call in, but it was a new job and my girlfriend was on my case about being responsible. She also liked teasing me a little about being scared of ghosts and goblins. So, to prove her wrong, I went to work.
I pulled up to the post. It was well-lit so that made me a little more comfortable. Also, I thought I’d have someone to work with to make the time go by fast. I went into the guard shack and the first thing the guard on duty said was, the other guard had called in sick, so, I was going to be working there alone!
I couldn’t let this guy know that I wasn’t too happy about being at this cemetery all by myself all night. I couldn’t allow him to question my manhood. He gave me a quick post briefing and showed me everything I needed to know. Before he left, I started to feel a little better about the situation. Then, he informed me that the only person left on the premises was the son of the crematory owner and he’d probably leave in an hour or so. Damn, I’d gotten so comfortable I’d forgotten about him, now I’d have to worry about this wacko until he left.
Once the guard I relieved was gone, I turned on the radio and used the phone to call my girl. There was really nothing to do except to make sure no one entered the grounds until morning when the property opened for business. Since the post had been started a year earlier, flower thieves had to go elsewhere for merchandise.
About an hour into my shift, I heard a car start behind me. I stepped out and saw the headlights of the only car left turn on. The son was headed down the hill towards the gate and me. It’s amazing how much crazy stuff can go through your mind in a matter of seconds when you get a little scared.
The car came closer to the gate and I positioned myself in front of the guard house in the center of the median so I didn’t look nervous, and, also, I wasn’t too close to the lane where his car was. As soon as he neared the gate, he slowed down, and when he did, I thought he might say goodnight or something. When the car moved alongside the guard house, I looked inside and, I swear, all I saw was a female arm. He was pointing it at me.
I screamed like a little girl and hauled ass. I was running down the street and this guy was following me. I couldn’t get away fast enough; it was like a bad dream. There were no other cars coming. On one side, I had the cemetery and I damn sure was not going to climb the fence and run through there. So I went full speed down the side of the road.
I ran about a half mile until I was exhausted but this guy was still following me. Finally, I grabbed a big rock because I’d had enough. When he saw that rock, he stopped the car and opened the door. I bolted again. In the distance, I heard someone calling my name. When I finally got enough nerve to look back, I saw the son and thought he looked kind of familiar. He kept calling my name, and when I finally recognized his voice, I knew I’d been had.
There was no son, and the arm was a mannequin arm. The culprit was my fat co-worker from a few days before. I should have hit him with that rock. Come to find out, his uncle ran the crematory, and, three days a week, he worked for his uncle as a janitor cleaning up the place.
He was laughing so hard he couldn’t catch his breath, and I was so pissed I was wishing he’d have a heart attack. He had tears rolling down his cheeks and, after a while, I laughed too. On the way back, I was trying to figure out how I could keep his fat ass from ever telling anyone this story.
When we got back to the gate, the guard I relieved was standing at the gate and before we got out of the car, he, too, burst out laughing. I found out later that all new hires went through this ritual. In the end, it wasn’t so bad; hell, later, I helped set people up for their night at the cemetery.