Early on, I realized that this job wouldn't be dull. I assumed that taking care of a bunch of garages full of household items in a huge parking lot couldn't be that hard. I was so wrong. One beautiful spring day, I was sitting in my office with my friend Jim when I got a phone call. I answer, and a man says, whispering into the phone, "Listen. I've watched enough CSI to know what I'm talking about, so listen. A woman is being held against her will in unit 120. I hear her screaming for help and banging on the door to be let out." I managed only one facility at the time, so I quickly narrowed it down to this location. My friend, Jim, was in the office with me. I told him that I was going outside for a minute and would be right back. I walked out and continued talking on the phone; I proceeded down the aisle toward unit 120. I started asking the guy on the telephone if he lives nearby and if that's why he can hear her. In the meantime, I looked around to ensure no one was purposely luring me outside. I notice one of the nearby neighbors peeking around a curtain at a sliding patio door while talking on his phone.
