Mutua was standing behind his boss when he found out about the stash. Apparently martin was pilfering all kinds of merch and storing them side for, Mutua assumed, some cash on the side. And worse, he was caught red-handed leaving the storeroom as mutual and the boss, Mr. Gupta approached.
It would be a lie to say that Mutua didn’t know about the theft. After all, he was the supervisor. He knew about the indulgences of his subordinates. He didn’t really act out because much of the time it was petty theft and didn’t cause any noticeable loss margins. Besides, business was booming so the lost merch was negligible.
It was an unspoken rule not to overdo it, but he would always step in whenever someone overstepped the bounds. You know, moderation. It also helped that nobody, least of all himself, liked the boss very much. He was a sharp tongued miser and was a hardass about leaves and things like that. So nobody was hurting for justice here. And perhaps that was why, when Martin, the new guy, who had been here less than a month, was caught helping himself to the goods by the owner himself, he had felt himself inclined to step in and save his skin.
It was true that the youngster had overdone it. The amount of things he had stored away surprised even him…what was he trying to do, start his own warehousing business? Clearly the kid had wasted no time ‘getting with the program’ and had jumped feet first in a very permissive environment, courtesy of himtruly, Mr. Supervisor Mutua. Fearing exposure of his les e fair approach to the casual stealing at the plant may actually burn him and the general population of the plant and also because he like to think of himself as a ‘good person’, Mutua didn’t hesitate to jump in and save his ass. Besides, Martin, being new, was considered of ‘dubious loyalty’. I.e., he wouldn’t hesitate to sell them all down the river if he felt the need to save himself.
HIS. JOB. WAS. AT. STAKE!!!
The store room was choke full of goods and it shouldn’t have been there. This looked bad. However, Martin was new and Mutua used this to his advantage. He convinced the boss that 1. Martin being new and all, he must have been confused about storage areas as he was still learning the ropes. Just innocent ignorance! 2. Common practice for this band of thieves was to label all the loot as marked for destruction due to imperfection or damage. To throw off the scent, see. And thankfully the greedy little bastard wasn’t stupid as well and had at least done as much. As such, convincing the boss that this new casual’s mistake wasn’t actually costing him anything wasn’t a tall order.
Still, it was clear that the only reason the owner bit, was because it was Mutua, one of his longest serving employees who was saying it and not much else, so he reluctantly let it go. Martin got off with a warning.
Needless to say, Martin was very grateful for the save and afterwards, they proceeded to strike up a kind of master disciple relationship. Martin was smart and veeeery ambitious and Mutua saw a himself in the boy. So he took him under his wing.
Martins future thieving was much more discreet and cunning and he learnt fast, devising new ways to do his dirty. To be honest, Martin still took a bit too much but he was so slick there was never a whiff of doubt on him. Mutua, on the other hand, almost never did it. He was paid fairly well and had already taken his fill when he was younger. He had invested his justly earned money in a side business because stolen money can’t last. And all the other extra spending money he needed had come from this favorite habit up until his business had gotten on its feet. After which he weaned himself off it because to be honest, the thrill of it had lost its shine. So all the occasional scoops he took was mostly spent on nights out, and his various ndogo ndogos.
Martin’s lifestyle, over the years had grown increasingly lavish off his ill-gotten gains and was barely able to hide it curtesy of his equally fast rise up the ladder in this plant. Over the span of 4 years, he had grown to the position of senior supervisor, while Mutua finally made management. Martin, now only reported directly to Mutua. Still, they weren’t paid that much and Martin’s lavish lifestile had Mutua concerned that it would draw attention. But he had no intention of slowing down and low key began resenting Mutua’s meddling caution.
Martin’s ambition was ravenous. To him, rather than hold back, he would much rather rise to a higher paying position the salary of which would give him a much larger blanket of cover. And said position was currently in Mutua’s hands. What needed to be done was obvious.
Opportunity presented itself in the form of a bad business deal for Mutua which resulted in his side business failing. Slowly going into debt, Mutua, as usual, resorted to common practice. Notifying his protégé, Martin, currently in his former position, of his intention of using storeroom B13 and proceeded, not realizing that he had given away the nuclear pass codes to the enemy.
The owner stopped by on the first Thursday of every month to check operations and Mutua was counting on his adopted son Martin to be on the case and cover his tracks. Mutua arrived at work, at his leisure to find his secretary waiting for him outside his office door grimfaced. The boss was waiting for him in room B13.
His insides hit the floor.
All limbs heavy, Mutua couldn’t even think to run away and like a robot, dragged his cold dead body to the scene of the crime. Snake in the grass martin stood behind a quietly seething owner in the very same spot he himself had stood all those years ago, looking like butter could never melt in his mouth.
Mutua didn’t want to believe it, but here it was. His doubts about Martin blew away in a chilly wind as Martin smoothly shot down and refuted all his explanations and claims in front of a livid Mr. Gupta.His little scumbag protegee proceeded to regale the owner with stories of Mutua and company’s clandestine exploits, not only naming names, but also producing pictures and footage and even a bunch of damning audios. No matter what Mutua had to say, in the face of such indisputable evidence, all he had was his invalid word.
And thus, Mutua and friends found themselves not only outside of a job, but in the back of a police van, their lives well and truly over. A few of them had managed to get away when the police arrived, but who cared about them? At this point, it was every man for himself. What honor among thieves?