Now to be truthful with you, this carryin’ on is not nearly so bad as I am lettin’ on. It is simply that it is embarrassin’ to my carefully maintained image to admit how really dull these evenings was, so’s I reflexively sort of try to build them up more than I should. I mean, you’d think that off hours with a bunch of guys what work at a magic joke and novelty factory would be a barrel of laughs. You know, more fun than callin’ in phony heist tips to the cops. Well, they surprised me by contentin’ themselves to drinkin’ and gamblin’ and maybe a fistfight or two for their amusements . . . like I say, the same old borin’ stuff any good-natured bunch of guys does. Mostly what they do is sit around and gripe about the work at the plant and how underpaid they are . . . which I do not pay much attention to as there is not a worker type alive that does not indulge in this particular pastime. In no time flat I determines that nobody in the work force is well enough versed in the finer points of non-backer entrepreneurmanship, which is to say crime, to converse with me on my own level. This is not surprisin’ in the age of specialization, but it does mean I don’t get nobody to talk to.
What I am gettin’, though, is depressed … a feelin’ which continues to grow as the week rolls on. It is not the work or the company of the worker types which is erodin’ at my morale, but rather the diminishin’ possibility of puttin’ a wrap on this job.
It seems the more I observe in my undercover-type investigation, the more puzzled I become as to how the pilferage is bein’ accomplished. The better I get to know my fellow worker types, the more I am convinced that they are not involved in any such goin’s on, even in a marginal manner. This is not to say that they are lackin’ in the smarts department, as they are easily as quick on the uptake as anyone I ever worked with in school or the business. Rather, I am makin’ a tribute to the tightness of the plant security which must necessarily be penetrated in order to perpetrate such an activity.