My husband was the store manager of a large, retail business outside Washington, DC, for many years. It was his responsibility to open on time, lock up and make sure the shop was secure, and monitor inventory at all times. They sold items that had a high turnover, and could easily be shoplifted, and often times were by the employees themselves.
As the community grew, and crime gradually increased over the years, cameras were installed to try and help keep track of their entire warehouse full of inventory. It seems many things were showing up "missing", and it was always someone else's fault.
At one point, the alarm kept going off on the weekends, and always in the middle of the day, in broad daylight. That was an odd time for someone to brave the back alleys of the warehouse. Because he was the manager, my husband had to show up, let the police in so they could check it out, then file a report incase the owners wanted to file an insurance claim.
This was going on once in a while for several months, and always the same. By the time everyone showed up, the place was empty. There was no forced entry; nothing out of order; just the alarm screaming like a banshee. It was annoying at first, just part of the job, but when it started happening more and more frequently, they started to have enough. My husband would get half way home and his beeper would go off with "ALARM" flashing. That was it; this was the last straw.
He had a long talk with the owners, and they all decided that someone was going to have to do a stake out. Someone was coming in and setting off the alarm on a regular basis, and it had to stop. So my husband and the assistant manager decided to pitch a tent and hunker down for the night to find out once and for all what the heck was going on.
Inside the tent they could move around a little and not set off the alarm, so they figured "one night won"t kill us.' That was nothing compared to turning around in DC traffic while half way home, on a Friday night, just to hunt a ghost.
Once the lights went out, they were ready to go to war. He tells me they were armed with baseball bats, pepper spray, a bucket of wings, liters of Coke and bags of chips and dip. What every good quasi-cop needs in such a threatening situation.
Sure enough, the place wasn't locked up for an hour, when the alarm started singing. They slowly came out of hiding, ready to attack the poor, unsuspecting victim of society with all the vigil-anti force that raged inside of them…Suddenly, from out of the darkness something swung only inches from their head- it happened so fast, they couldn't imagine what it was-
They jumped back, took cover and tried to get their bearings before it made another attack. Little did they know just how dangerous a mother swallow and her mate could be!
BIRDS! It was a freaking bird that was setting that thing off. By now, it was probably the 2nd and 3rd generation of birds, living in the rafters.
Sure enough, a closer inspection turned up several swallows nests, lined up all across the rafters at the top building. It seems that during the day, while the bay doors were open, they would fly in and make themselves at home. How they got in and out after the door closed is still a mystery.
However, it didn't matter. Going up there with a hammer and chisel to knock those things down, brought immense satisfaction to my husband and his now brother in arms; assistant manager in such a way that not even higher taxes and a lousy company picnic could dampen.
Some times a man's just gotta do; what a man's gotta do.
