Jimmy was a garbage man, but he had a side gig that was a bit more lucrative than hauling away other people’s trash. He and his two waste management buddies, Nick and Deno, moonlighted as burglars, and they had a foolproof system for scoring goods.
Most Americans don’t celebrate Boxing Day, but the day after Christmas was the Super Bowl of the waste disposal game. That’s when families would put out all the boxes of the new toys, gadgets, and appliances they got as gifts that year. It was a pain in the ass to haul the extra junk away, but while doing so, Jimmy and his crew also happened to see who got what—or which houses would be worth looting.
The other good thing about the holiday season was a lot of folks went on vacation for New Year’s—especially rich folks—leaving their mansions unoccupied with all their new expensive toys. So the week after Christmas, Jimmy and his crew would take note of which houses had no bags waiting to be picked up on trash day. That meant the homeowners were out of town, and the coast was clear.
They’d pick a few houses each year, always in a different neighborhood to avoid suspicion. They also kept an eye out for which homes had security systems—they let you know with signs right on the front lawn. Though the neighborhoods Jimmy hit were so affluent and low in crime that most homeowners didn’t even bother turning on their alarm systems—if they had one at all. Some even left their doors unlocked. These people never imagined any thieves would come all the way out to their quiet little suburb. The only crimes they had to worry about in their neck of the woods were drunk drivers—or their spoiled teenage kids throwing an underage drinking party.
Once Jimmy scoped out the best houses to hit, he, Nick, and Deno would return on New Year’s Eve under the cover of darkness wearing masks to hide their identities. No neighbors would notice when they broke a window to enter the house because there was already so much noise between the fireworks, loud music, and drunken parties.
They’d move fast. Nick and Deno would collect the most expensive electronics: the smartphones, TVs, gaming consoles, laptops, tablets, speakers, and cameras, while Jimmy would head straight for the master bedroom to snatch the jewelry. They’d pack the smaller items into trash bags and leave the bigger stuff in boxes outside by the curb overnight.
The next morning, they’d come by in the garbage truck on their normal route and dump the bags in the back—though they wouldn’t run the compactor until after they dropped the stolen goods off at a storage center. They’d return after their shift and immediately sell the merchandise off to pawn shops and jewelry stores—before the homeowners returned from vacation to report any of the stuff stolen. Some of it they even returned to the stores where it was originally purchased for a full refund. Other stuff they’d simply keep for themselves—like the gold Rolex on Jimmy’s wrist and the 72-inch flatscreen in his apartment.
Jimmy was smart about it though. They only took what they could easily move to a fence in another state, things that couldn’t be traced back to them. On more than one occasion, he could have easily taken keys laying on the counter and driven off in a $100k sports car. But that would have been stupid, just begging to get caught. The key to being a successful crook was to not get too greedy—just play it safe and take your small scores. They add up over time.
Jimmy didn’t feel too bad about the people he robbed. These were the types who could easily afford to replace their stolen goods. They probably had insurance on it too. Not that these yuppies needed that stuff to begin with. He’d see them throw away perfectly fine flatscreen TVs just to replace them with another one slightly bigger. They’d toss out couches, tables, and furniture better than Jimmy could ever afford. Any oversized junk too big for their truck, they’d actually pay people to haul away. Jimmy and his crew would have taken that stuff off their hands for free. But did they ever offer? No.
Plus the way Jimmy saw it, being covered in the stench of their garbage day after day for years—in the rain, the snow, and the torturous heat—he deserved a piece of their pie. Hauling can after can full of dog shit… Do I look like a plumber? Some of these rich pricks didn’t even give them a holiday tip. That was part of their code: never hit a house that left them a Christmas card with green inside. But those that didn’t—they had it coming. Fail to tip your trash men, you’re practically begging to be robbed. Jimmy and his crew were just taking what should have been given.
It was the perfect crime, a well-deserved bonus for the holidays. Jimmy liked to think of himself as a cross between Santa Claus and Robin Hood: stealing from the naughty rich and giving to the nice poor—at least he, Nick, and Deno thought of themselves as nice. Though after five years of successful scores, they weren’t exactly “poor” no more. They’d sometimes hit houses over the summer too. The Fourth of July was always a lucrative night. But Jimmy was still waiting for that one big score that could let him quit his job as a garbage man for good. Retire and move down to the Florida Keys. He already had his boat picked out—just needed the dough. He could take the southern heat, but these northeast winters seemed to be getting more brutal by the year. Global warming my ass…
If only they could happen upon the house of a gold bug with an extra large stash, too stingy to buy a proper safe. Or a divorced housewife who used her generous settlement to buy a new diamond piece each month. Or some wealthy Wall Street trader who left the password for his bank account taped to his computer desk. People liked to joke that criminals were dumb, but from Jimmy’s experience, most law-abiding folks were no Einsteins—even the rich ones.
Maybe especially the rich ones. If there was any justice in the world, Jimmy’s street smarts would be worth more than these mid-wit paper pushers. Who knows, maybe some whizkid tech geek lived in one of these houses, an early investor in Bitcoin, and they could find the password for his digital wallet. Jimmy didn’t understand that cryptocurrency stuff, despite his nephew trying to explain it to him numerous times. Seemed like a big Ponzi scheme to him. But some suckers thought that magic internet money was valuable, and he could sell it off to those rubes for real cash.
Jimmy didn’t have any kids of his own. He could never get past a first date to settle down with a broad. He figured it must be his smell that turned them off. No matter how many times he showered, a whiff of landfill remained on him at all times. Trash had seeped into his bloodstream. He wore people’s garbage like cologne.
Deno sometimes asked Jimmy about quitting while they were ahead—banking their winnings and walking away from the heist game on top. Jimmy told him no, though—not until he had his boat in the Keys. They were still waiting for the score to end all scores.
In their sixth year of holiday capers, Jimmy wished he had listened to Deno. Because on New Year’s Eve that night, everything went to shit.
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