Heist
Week 2, Day 3
I know every story needs a villain. In order to have someone you’re rooting for, there has to be someone you’re rooting against. I get that. But the thing is, I never set out to be anyone’s villain. Honestly, I don’t think I am one. It’s all a matter of perspective, isn’t it? We are all the hero of our own story, and I’m just trying to make the best of a bad hand. Aren’t we all? Let she who is without an instinct for self-preservation cast the first stone.
When I met him, Charlie was working as a puppeteer. Well, as a puppeteer’s apprentice. Following your dreams is a beautiful and noble and admirable thing to do, sure. But Charlie was starving, and he was about to be evicted. I’m a pragmatic person. I could see that Charlie had skills. Audiences loved him. His puppets could wring tears from a rock, laughter from a libertarian on tax day. But puppetry was never going to bring home the extra-firm tofu.
So I took him under my wing. Nat characterizes it as “isolating” Charlie, “alienating” him from his family, “ruining” his life. But we all know Nat, right? Pure drama. She believes she’s the shining white knight of her story, and yours, and mine, and anyone who interferes with her story arc must be evil.
I am not evil. It’s ridiculous that I even have to say it. But I’m not. Charlie was better off. He was happier. He thanked me for helping him get that bank teller job. His acting skills were crucial — his complete lack of experience would have been a deal breaker for most people. But with my coaching, Charlie crafted the perfect narrative. He walked into that interview with a touch of swagger and a backpack full of sob story. That HR recruiter never stood a chance.
And then, yes, I leaned on Charlie from time to time. I had helped him dig his way out of a bad situation and a dead-end dream. Is it too much to ask that he repay the favor with a few access codes, some inside information about security procedures, the occasional admin password? Charlie shouldn’t have had access to such things, which shielded him from suspicion right up until the end. But Charlie was resourceful. He knew which assistant managers to ply with donuts and coffee, and when they’d be away from their desks long enough for Charlie to find the sticky note with the passwords — right out in the open! — and snap a quick photo. He knew when the usual security guard would be out for his biweekly allergy shots, leaving the less-experienced temp in his place.
And he knew exactly what would happen if — when — he pulled the fire alarm.
I had him brief me on all of it, and made him repeat it over and over until we both knew it inside and out. Every piece had to be in its place. There could be no mistakes.
But we didn’t account for the tornado.
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This is a story start — if you’d like to see where the story goes, “clap” for it. My “winning” start (based on number of readers who clap for it) will be developed further and might grow into a full short story!
