Borrowing And Sometimes Repaying Delays Investigation
EDITOR'S NOTE: This is the second installment of Mark Manney's Loss Prevention Chronicles, which we began in our September/October issue. Manney was the National Automatic Merchandising Association's security/loss prevention knowledge source partner from 2004 to 2010. He has been featured in leading industry publications over the years, including VENDING TIMES and Sunbelt Vending & OCS. At the suggestion of Sunbelt's publisher, the late Ben Ginsberg, Manney authored this series of what are, in effe...
November 13, 2018 | Mark Manney
EDITOR'S NOTE: This is the second installment of Mark Manney's Loss Prevention Chronicles, which we began in our September/October issue. Manney was the National Automatic Merchandising Association's security/loss prevention knowledge source partner from 2004 to 2010. He has been featured in leading industry publications over the years, including VENDING TIMES and Sunbelt Vending & OCS. At the suggestion of Sunbelt's publisher, the late Ben Ginsberg, Manney authored this series of what are, in effect, detective stories based on his real-life experiences in working with vending and foodservice operations to create an environment of discipline to combat shrinkage and tighten control.
They owe it to me…I've been busting my hump running and gunning for five years and the commission oughta be higher. I deserve this…hmmm...I'll just up my commission percent myself. Anyway, if my luck holds, I'll put it back, well most of it…they won't even know it's gone, and even if they do, they won't do anything except write me up and then all I gotta do is lay low for a month or two. They gotta know I do this. Nobody has said anything in six months. What's that ole saying?…silence is consent. Route Driver Ben Hodges knew no one was in the break room but he still reflexively snapped a sly hooded glance to the left and to the right as he borrowed $300 from the bill changer.
I glided down the airport escalator where Prairie Food Services' loss-prevention director David Barron was waiting for me to start our third week of loss-prevention surgery, probing for and then cutting out pockets of dishonest employees who infected the company like insidious cancers, while injecting chemotherapy loss-prevention best practices in their wake.
As we drove into the crisp Midwest day, Barron filled me in on a change of plans and an open investigation that had popped up, the result of the simple discipline I had brought to build controls into the culture.
Worst Practices Our planned cafeteria visits were canceled as a formal standard operating procedure (SOP) had been put in place in vending that hadn't (intentionally) been announced to the route drivers and technicians yet, exposing a $300 and $200 theft from two changers.
In a flurry of activity Barron, advised by me and backed by the owner, had written and sent out to management half a dozen simple, concise, common-sense SOPs, one of which was that the day any changer was reported short (by $15 or more), two managers must immediately go to the changer and count it down. In the past, the phrase "it will come back next week" was the benefit-of-the-doubt blind hope. It also delayed or eliminated the potentially ugly confrontation that provided the distraction that missing changer cash was just a mistake.
Sometimes, that hope was realized and it did come back, but sometimes it didn't, and by the time the reality of missing changer cash was confirmed, the trail was so cold that other constant, urgent demands overruled the important fact that somebody had stolen the money. And it was too late to attempt any reconstruction of the cash chain of custody or hold any individual accountable. To compound the problem, the changers were constantly getting mysteriously mixed up. The old investigator's mantra – follow the money – was impossible. Over time, this conflict-avoidance worst practice had seeped into the company culture.
The occasional MIA changer cash seemed to be the price of doing vending business and no one had the time to conduct a real investigation or the specialized skill to confront anyone when absolute proof of who had shoved their hand into the company cookie jar seemed virtually impossible.
Route driver Ben Hodges loved the 24/7 flashing glitz of the Indian Reservation casino at Council Bluffs. He loved the colorful crowds, the neon nights, the exhilaration of the blackjack table, the pretty women, watching the hustlers and grifters that infested the casino floor … but most of all he loved gambling for free with company money.
Tiptoe Through The Excuses Sitting in front of a slot machine, pumping in $5 bills recently skimmed from a changer, Hodges' thoughts tiptoed around the shame and guilt his burgeoning thefts had spawned. Sipping a glass of Crown Royal provided the crutch he needed to legitimize his betrayals:
I'm making them plenty of money … they can afford it. If I can just hit it again this weekend. I'll put most of it back…hell they won't even know it's gone. It's been five years and I'm running the top route. I deserve more than what they're paying anyway. Man, I gotta hit this weekend. The Visa bill is coming up, the ex is dropping the boys off for my weekend. He took a long pull from the glass as another changer five was sucked into the one-arm bandit, disappearing forever.
In his second year, Hodges had started skimming cash, building up his nerve to steal $2 a day from 10 or 15 machines a week to help with his bills. But after six months, that grew into $3 or $4, then $5. Then out of the blue, he got called into the general manager's office and chewed on. But he was a pretty good liar. He knew there were others doing just what he was doing. Management couldn't prove he was guilty; as usual there were supervisors running routes, and they were shorthanded on experienced route drivers.
He just completely backed off for a month, then dropped back down to two bucks a machine…no one said anything, so he just figured they knew but didn't care as long as he kept it low.
Then, after about a year, he had a brilliant flash and gambled on gambling! He hit his first changer on a Thursday for $300, took it to the casino blackjack tables … walking off Saturday night winning $800! He paid his expenses and put the $300 back in the changer on Sunday, realizing if he was careful he had a built-in bankroll to regularly take to the casino, parlaying the blackjack system he hoped would eventually let him live the life he deserved.
In his fourth year, Hodges started intentionally mixing changer cash, shorting one changer, putting it back in another. This ensured it kind of balanced out most of the time, only actually skimming cash every fourth or fifth mix while not getting too greedy … creating confusing noise to cover his thefts.
For the most part, his luck was holding at the casino and when he won, he usually was able to put most of the bankroll back. They always waited a week or two after a big shortage to see if it came back – and, often enough, he made sure it did. Senior management mostly shrugged their shoulders, scratching their heads whenever they tried to untangle the knots he intentionally tied. Hodges had developed a palms-up innocent shrug with a wide-eyed expression that could have earned him an Oscar nomination.
Call Of The Wild Weekend Then, they brought in an outside loss prevention expert (yours truly) and the money room manager, nicknamed Mom (see "If You Want to Keep the Beer Cold, Keep it Next to Mom's Heart" in the September/October issue), left the building with felony charges, scaring Hodges straight for a couple of months, But the extra cash had become part of his lifestyle and, as the weeks passed, the call of the casino wild weekend became more than he could bear.
He was nervous about starting up again, and heard rumors Landers and Barron were traveling all over the company exposing dishonest employees. He planned on skimming a couple of changers on Thursday. Then, if his luck held at the casino, getting it back by Sunday and no one would be the wiser … not even the outside hired gun who smiled a lot but had eyes that looked right through you.
Watson... The Game Is Afoot Barron and I sat in the conference room brainstorming after reviewing the five years of changer reports he had collected. After I asked a series of questions, a grin exploded on his face and I shouted out to Barron the catch phrase from one of my investigative heroes Sherlock Holmes – "Watson … the game is afoot!"
In the past three years, Hodges had stolen thousands of dollars from changers and machines, but the paper trail was as twisted and misleading as a New York Times editorial. I discovered that one of the two changer shortages reported on Friday was actually counted down on Friday by two managers under the new secret SOP, instead of waiting a week or two to see whether it came back. The changer was at a high-end location, a private jet repair company where I knew there also would be a high-end digital CCTV system!
The fact there would be a video to use in the interrogation of Hodges would be all I would need to jam up and flip over his Oscar performance denials, once he was sitting in the chair in the room with no view. Barron and I headed out to the jet repair company and, after a day of digging, came back with everything I needed to put the interrogation "con" in conflict management.
In The Room With No View Hodges was a big beefy man, a loner, ill tempered, considered a hand grenade with the pin half out. He was an imitator since high school. When Hodges walked into the conference room he was shocked to find me smiling like the Godfather about to make him an offer he couldn't refuse. He had to fight back the waves of panic swelling up due to my reputation.
As was my habit with a scheduled interrogation, I was dressed in black, adding to the Sopranos persona that my Jersey accent and Italian American genes fostered. (I had done this so many times with another client, RE Services' Jim Roberts called me "the man in black").
Before Hodges had absorbed what was happening, he was sitting in a chair facing me about a foot away, with nothing in between us. Barron was sitting behind Hodges out of sight; there was a digital voice recorder running, and I was radiating benevolent confidence like a blast furnace.
I opened the conversation with a standard monologue, relaxing Hodges to get a read on his non-stressed body language. Then I explained the program I was bringing to the company and how the losses had been draining all the profit. I detailed all the investigative tools, technologies and programs I had brought to the company.
Hodges tried to hide the fear twitching just below his thoughts that was causing a tight knot in the pit of his stomach, but he failed. I knew there was blood in the water. When I finally asked Hodges a question, he hoped it was just what this was all about.
"Ben, we need your help, do you know of anyone stealing?" I stated flatly.
Hodges was relieved, grasping at the hope this was the real reason I wanted to interview him: a fishing expedition. Hodges immediately offered up a woman working in one of the cafeterias who was taking product home. I earnestly thanked him for his honesty, pulling detail after detail out of Hodges on the employee pilferage incidents he had witnessed, reminding him of the company's new anonymous hotline, and urging him to use it in the future. I added in a fatherly voice, "If you have knowledge of theft and say nothing, you become complicit." Hodges eagerly agreed to call in the future. I stretched and yawned, smiling at Hodges and, for a moment he had to suppress a giggle, convinced this really was just a fishing trip and he was home free.
Then I started down a different road, extolling Hodges' record and service fulfilling the No. 1 route in the company … but there was a problem with him personally and it was important it was discussed and settled.
Suddenly my expression darkened and the knot returned to Hodges's stomach. He remained silent and just stared at me, a red flush spreading up the side of his neck as his blood pressure surged uncontrollably. I just stared back … waiting … knowing that the first person who speaks loses. After a long awkward pause Hodges eyelids fluttered and he swallowed, then stretched out his arms, palms up, innocently shrugging.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Hodges said, his eyes wide in shocked innocence. (And the Oscar goes to …)
The Matador's Cape I grimily launched into the fact that I had undeniable proof that Hodges was throwing some of his stales away instead of bringing them back to the warehouse to be counted, as per the new SOP. I told him I knew he was eating sandwiches without paying for them, in spite of the new SOP that everyone had personally signed; and that I hoped he would be honest as the proof was on video and undeniable.
Relief flooded through Hodges again as his head bobbed up and down, eagerly nodding yes while he blurted out he knew others who were doing the same, thinking to himself they couldn't write up everybody.
I congratulated Hodges once again on his honesty, then wheeled in a little closer to him. Hodges hadn't noticed that he was sitting in a low chair with straight legs and my higher chair had wheels. I was much shorter then Hodges but I was now sitting ramrod straight, leaning forward with him slumped in his chair half turned to the side, leaning away from me, his hands tucked under his armpits, his eyes constantly dancing away from my burning gaze.
I loomed forward, physically and verbally dominating and controlling the encounter. I made a mental note that Hodges' thumbs were tucked under his armpits as well as both of his hands. Thumbs out and pointing up usually indicates confidant arrogance, the entire hand in the armpits usually indicates closed fear.
The time was right. The cracks in the confession dam had been made, Hodges' body language was closed but slightly subdued. It was the moment to play the ace: the video recorded the breakroom of the private jet repair company showing Hodges throwing away stales as he had admitted, eating a sandwich without paying for it as he had admitted – and borrowing $300 from the changer on Thursday at 1:17 p.m., then putting it back on Sunday night at 8:10 p.m. I pulled a CD out of the red folder I held in my hands, looking over the top of my reading glasses.
"Ben I appreciate your honesty. See, I have a CD of the last time you threw away a stale, and the last time you ate a sandwich without paying for it … but the CD also has the last time you borrowed some money from a changer: Thursday at 1:17 p.m., and when you put it back: Sunday 8:10 p.m."
Hodges' heart was pounding in his chest, his mouth was bone dry. He dropped his hands from under his armpits and tightly gripped the arms of the chair. As Hodges' chin started to nod down, I knew he was arguing with himself about confessing.
"Ben, did you borrow the money to pay bills…or was it to just spend on yourself? I realize you were backed into a corner. I know about your ex-wife squeezing you hard," I prompted. "We already know what happened…we're just trying to figure out why?"
I had asked the classical choice question on the interrogation chessboard, giving Hodges a path to save face, a path to project his guilt on the dreaded ex-wife while minimizing the initial admission itself.
Hodges' eyes were glazed and he was staring at his shoes. His voice cracked in a whisper, "I had to pay my bills."
Twenty minutes later, Hodges was in full submission. The first time was established, and then all the times in between. Hodges sagged in his chair like a deflated balloon and realized I was dealing this hand … and I had hit the dishonest route driver confession jackpot.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR » Mark Manney is the founder and chief executive of Loss Prevention Results Inc. (LPR). He is also the author of: "The Brave New World of Micromarket Loss Prevention" a 50-plus page step-by-step Micromarket Loss Prevention manual and Food Service Loss Prevention available at VT's bookstore (
vendingtimes.com/bookstore-sales). For more information on LPR's versatile capabilities, call (919) 812-3602 or email
mmanneylpr@gmail.com or visit the LPR website at
losspreventionresults.com.
