THE MIDNIGHT SHIFT

 In my youthful years I had a wide variety of jobs in Orange County and Hollywood - - dishwasher, cook, chauffeur, proof reader, sales representative (that lasted for about two weeks), movie extra - - and, of course, pianist and freelance writer.

I was never interested in being a security guard, but I chose that work solely because I could always get a late-night shift, which coincided with my notorious nocturnal nature. My first security job was at Hughes Aircraft, where I was armed (with minimal knowledge of guns).

My most unintentionally memorable security guard job was at Goodwill Industries in Santa Ana. I was twenty- three at the time.

That's where my story begins.

There were numerous Goodwill Stores around Orange County, but the main Goodwill facility was located on Fairview St. in Santa Ana. 

It was a huge two story warehouse where all the donations to Goodwill first arrived. There was a "dock" in the back of the building, where trucks arrived to drop off the donations.

Inside, the donations were inspected, sorted, cleaned, and repaired. The facility was divided into specific areas for all the items:  clothing, toys, appliances, books, etc.

Goodwill had an admirable policy of hiring physically and mentally handicapped workers. The entire system seemed to be meticulously designed and smoothly executed.

I was hired for the midnight shift - from 11:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. During those hours I was the only person in the entire facility. My duty was to make hourly patrols of the area, inside and out. To prove that the patrols were legitimately conducted, there were strategically placed boxes that I punched with a key, which recorded the time and location ( this system was used for most security patrol jobs).

My first night was sobering, to say the least. I hadn't realized how massive the place was.

I first had to check the Goodwill store, which was located in the front of the facility. Next I had to patrol the entire warehouse, which included the first and second floors. Then I would patrol the outside yard in the back, where the loading docks were. That area was surrounded with an eight-foot chain link fence.

Last of all, there was another fenced area outside in the front - where things such as lawn mowers, bicycles, and assorted machinery was kept.

The job was slightly overwhelming at first, but I soon got used to it. In fact, in a few weeks, I occasionally used a bicycle when I patroled the outside yards. All in all, I liked the job. Nobody bothered me and I had the whole place to myself.

I had never expected a problem to arise, but it eventually happened when the janitor arrived after his vacation.

The janitor's name was Robert. He didn't work at the main facility where I was. His job was to clean all of the Goodwill stores around the area in Orange County.  After he was done, which was usually around midnight, he would come to my office and return the keys to the stores. Then he'd punch out his time card.

Robert didn't seem anything like a janitor to me. He was about fifty years old, tall, goodlooking, well-dressed, and articulate. Curiously, he alternately drove two brand new Lincoln Continentals - - one was red, the other was white.

I couldn't imagine why he was a janitor, but it was none of my business.

At first when Robert returned the keys, we exchanged brief, polite small talk and then he would leave.

Eventually he would stay a little longer every night. I didn't think much about it, until he finally came into my office and took a seat. We talked for about half an hour.

I was polite and tolerated his company, but eventually became slightly annoyed. I was fiercely independent and didn't want to waste my time having extended small talk with a stranger.

The small talk quickly changed to more logical things. We began discussing books, movies, art, music, and subjects that seemed far beyond janitorial duties. I became more curious about Robert.

He was a widower. His wife had died several years ago. He had a sense of humor and told funny stories about some of the workers at Goodwill. He knew a lot more about goings-on in the facility than I thought.

He started following me around. One night we were outside in the yard. There was a Goodwill drop-off box on the street where people could leave donations.  There happened to be two mattresses by the box. Suddenly a pickup truck pulled up. Two Mexican men got out and stole the mattresses.

Robert thought it was amusing. "You're the security guard," he said. "Go out there and stop them."

"Like hell," I laughed. "Let them take what they want."

Robert's conversations soon took a rather uncomfortable personal turn. He revealed that he liked cute boys and described some of the workers whom he was interested in.

He had been married. Was he bi-sexual? Gay? I was puzzled but didn't pry.

Robert also shocked me by saying that the manager of Goodwill (a man about 40) hired me because he thought I was cute and he loved to walk past my office early in the morning so he could see me.

Did I believe this? I was skeptical.

Occasionally Robert would accompany me on one of my nightly patrols. I was really annoyed by this but remained polite. I hadn't realized he was doing this to know my exact routine.

Incidents with Robert were starting to set off my mental alarm bells. I always took the stairs when I patroled the second floor. Robert insisted that we use the elevator. An elevator for just one floor? Why?

I admittedly got a very uncomfortable feeling with Robert in the elevator. He gazed at me with his piercing blue eyes, which seemed calculating.

I soon made the extremely unnerving discovery that Robert seemingly had a split personality. He could talk normally as any other person would.

But suddenly he would become possessed with a very dark side, during which he would change drastically and go off on lengthy tangents.

He revealed that he had a vast knowledge about lethal drugs and poisonous herbs and used them to his advantage. He confessed that he once drugged a young man and raped him. He also confessed other bizarre things that left me speechless.

Were they just fantasies? I didn't want to believe these things, but my intuition assured me that they were true.

One night in my office, during a lucid moment, Robert was sitting near me. Suddenly he put his hand on my leg and moved it up to my crotch.

I was startled at the unexpected advance and panicked - wondering how to get out of it.

I jumped up quickly and made a feeble  joke that there might be security cameras around. Then I changed the subject.

It was around this time - I think the next night - that Robert said he once attempted to kill a security guard.

I seldom answered his unwholesome rants. I merely listened in awe and disdain.

I was getting more frustrated every day. There seemed to be no way to get rid of Robert. I didn't want to be rude - - and didn't want to draw any outside attention to the situation.

I tried to find out information about Robert from some of the employees who came early in the morning. Robert worked for Goodwill for a number of years. I was startled to hear that his wife had a good deal of money.....and died of mysterious circumstances - but no one knew exactly what.

My immediate thought was that he killed her.

Strange things were beginning to happen. The next night seemed like the longest one of my life. There was a current shortage of security guards, so I was called in to work overtime. I started my shift at 8:00 p.m.

I had a very apprehensive feeling all through that long night. Something didn't seem right. Strangest of all, Robert never showed up for work. For some uncanny reason, I felt like I was being watched.

When I went outside in the back of the facility, I discovered that the gate to the loading docks was unlocked. The guard on the shift before me must have forgot it. I quickly locked the gate.

Most alarming of all, I happened to look at the nearby street and saw a white Lincoln Continental drive by.

I'm usually a calm person and I don't scare easily. That night I was genuinely frightened.

At seven o'clock in the morning, the dock workers were arriving and I was slowly getting ready to leave. Suddenly one of the workers breathlessly ran into my office.

"There's a man caught in the trash compactor," he said. "I think he's dead!"

I initially assumed that one of the dock workers was injured. I called for the police and an ambulance.

They arrived quickly. I went to the dock as they were desperately trying to extract the body, but I didn't want to see anything graphic. I left quickly.

The biggest shock was that the body had been in the trash compactor all night. On my hourly patrol, I had to punch a time key that was right next to the trash compactor. The door that I used to get there always locked automatically. I had to hold the door open with one foot while I punched the key. If the door closed, I'd be locked out.

The following day I learned more. The case was listed as a homicide. The victim was a young man who worked at Goodwill. Ironically his name was John and several  employees said that he resembled me.

Most shockingly of all, a few days later I got a call at home from Robert. This was incredible, since I never gave him my number. Suddenly I remembered that there is a list of the Goodwill security guards and their phone numbers in my desk at work. Robert undoubtedly got my number there.

Even more alarming, I started to tell Robert about the murder at work and he didn't want to hear about it. He brushed the news aside and changed the subject.

This was all too much. I reluctantly quit my job at Goodwill. I was contacted by the homicide detectives and told them what I knew. I also said that I left Goodwill because I no longer felt safe.

From what I know, Robert didn't returned to Goodwill and vanished - - never to be seen again.

Jon V.

Afterthought

Thanks for reading this. There are more unnerving episodes to this story, but due to the length I had to condense. Robert was never caught. He left California and disappeared. It is very doubtful that he is still living. He was fifty when I was twenty-three.

Incidentally, I never wanted to know the details of the murder. My curious way of dealing with the horrifying situation was to expunge it from my mind - - at least for awhile.

I soon returned to Hollywood.

I never had another job as a security guard