And then, finally, there was the awful story Mr. D told me while he was already down in South Africa, in July, working, and I was still in England, packing up the house.
“Mmmmm, yeah, some bad news in the paper today...”
“O gosh, what? Everything ok?”
“Well, the building near us, Bosch. They’re an auto parts distributor. Anyway, they noticed they were having a significant 'leakage' problem in the warehouse. The inventory was ... disappearing.”
“Ok, so the financial controller investigated, and they discovered this big organized crime plot. Apparently, they were feeding fake footage to the CCTV intakes, so it looked like the warehouse was empty. But at the very same time, their people were going in and plucking two of these, four of these, five of those, four of that, off the shelves and then loading it onto a truck for parts unknown. Not enough of any one thing to make anyone notice big blank spots, but the scam was very lucrative overall -- thousands and thousands and thousands of rands worth of merchandise was disappearing....”
“Wow, sounds like Mission Impossible!”
“Mmmm, yup. Well, the upshot of it was, the financial controller got a handle on the whole thing, they had a big police bust, and caught some of the people involved.”
“Cool, well, that’s good, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but a couple of days later the financial controller and his wife were shot in their home. Assassinated.”
“Oh NO! NO! God, that’s terrible.”
“Yup. That’s what happened.”
“Oh my gosh, the CFO! How awful! But ... his wife too ?"
Big silence over the phone. Ummmm.
At this point, Ms. Intrepid Writer sits back in her chair and thinks, “Yeah, that was inappropriate! You’re supposed to be worried about your husband, you idiot, not just your own silly skin."
One should at the very least keep these thoughts to oneself.
Oh, well, what can I say? Thoughtless. Completely thoughtless.
And, a good security system sounds like a great idea. Just grrrreat!