BITES OF BEN URGLAR
By Ken Blowers
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(c) 2014 by Ken Blowers
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1
BEN URGLAR
My name is Ben Urglar and I live in your town. Well, I don't actually live in your town but when I go there some people make me feel so welcome. I just feel like I'm sort of an honorary member of your town.
I like to go to your town and just cruise around the streets looking at the nice houses, the nice trees and the nice gardens and when I see a house with the garage door wide open and the car gone. Wow! I just know I'm so welcome!
I can't resist such a warm invitation, to do so might be construed impolite. So I strolls up to the house and rings the bell or knocks on the door, whatever, as a matter of courtesy, you understand. I don't really expect anybody to be in. If any body is in, I make a polite inquiry: ‘Have you seen a lost cat or dog? Have you lost a mobile phone? Do you have any antiques for sale?’ Anything that comes quickly comes to mind. It's not that I'm more interested in getting away than staying to make casual conversation. No, I just don't want to intrude, you understand.’
But usually there's nobody in and that's nice. That's the way the game should be and usually is, played. People who play it, well, they just love to leave nice little gifts for me, they do! Lawn mowers, leaf blowers, hose-reels, wheelbarrows, you name it. Once I get into one of those garages it can be like a veritable Aladdin's Cave: I never know what treasurers I'll find. It's so exciting. You know, one lady last week actually left me a nice dainty little wooden wheelbarrow, out on the front lawn it was too. So handy and simply loaded with pretty pot plants. She did, I tell you! I was able to wheel them to my van easy as wink. Then back, through the garage for the mower and a nice little wooden garden setting. I like that, it saved my back I can tell you.
Now if you'd like me to call, just to help you get rid of your bits of surplus, you understand, then leave your garage door open when you go out. I’ll take it as a sign that I'm welcome and I'll be round just as soon as I can. Can't promise exactly when: I mean there's so many doing it, but I'll get there eventually. I will! If you haven't got a garage door to leave open, don't fret; just leave your old newspapers strewn around the lawn, your windows open, that kind of thing. I'll notice. I've got a good eye for that sort of thing. Well, after all, it's me living!
Cheers!
Ben Urglar
2
PINS AND NEEDLES
Some people will steal anything. I mean that - and I don't like it!
You might think that's funny coming from me since I have a bit of a reputation for lifting the odd dollar or two, here and there. But that's usually money and things that people leave lying about, you know, sort of uncared for.
There's no way, no way at all, that I would ever steal somebody's credit card PIN number. To me, that would be like stealing their identity! Something simply not done by us professionals anyway. Even fringe workers, that’s minor crooks, you’d think would have some degree of honour. Unfortunately, the real low life don't think that way. That's what needles me! What's even worse, there's one operating around here, right now! Oh, yes, you can bet on it!
Let me tell you about it. This creep will likely phone a lady and say: 'This is such-and-such a bank. Have you lost your credit card, madam?' When the lady checks and to her surprise finds the card missing, the imposter, who’s lifted that card, says: 'Well, we think it's your card that's stuck in our ATM. Perhaps, if you would give me your PIN number, I could try it? The machine should then release the card'. The lady obliges, pleased that her missing card has been found 'safely' by the bank. Then he comes back with 'Thank you madam - it worked! The card looks a bit damaged. Best to have it checked. I'll do that for you and send it back out to you in due course. Alright?' The trusting lady, pleased she is getting such personalised service, readily agrees.
Timing is important to this caper. He must strike early in the month so he can withdraw large amounts of cash, sometimes every day for up to up to 30 days, keeping just below the $1,000 a day limit. When the poor dear finally queries her next statement with her bank, she finds that because the irregularities have not been reported earlier the bank are not liable for the losses!
Moral? Oh, yes there's a moral alright. First: Never, ever, give your PIN number to anyone! Not to a partner, family, friends, bank staff or even a policeman. Only you and the bank's computer should ever be able to match your card to your account. No exceptions. None at all. Second: Never, ever, keep large sums of money in a credit card account. Set yourself a limit that you could possibly afford to lose should you ever become a victim of fraud, say $1,000. Anything more properly belongs in a separate interest-bearing account. Got that?
If you follow that simple advice, my friends, you will severely limit your risk and hopefully put the scum that give my trade such a bad name completely out of business.
Cheers!
Ben Urglar
3
EZY DOES IT
Technology is a wonderful thing, for some. But for others it can be a real drag. Ever notice that? Let me tell you something about technology. I've got this mate in the trade who has specialised for some time in relieving old dodderers of a little excess weight from their purses and wallets. He tends to concentrate on those who like to draw out all their pension in one-hit on pension days. There's a lot of pensioners who do that.
He used to hang around outside the banks watching all those coming and going. He would carefully observe their follow-on habits when they left the bank. Those that went shopping immediately, he would dismiss as hardly worth targeting, no sense in chasing after a half empty kitty! Those he determined as being worthy of attention, were the ones who went straight home. He would follow them, discretely of course and later get into the house somehow on the same day and lift the lot! Unfortunately, he developed a nasty, expensive, habit and as the money needed to support this habit grew, he became a little more reckless. He couldn't wait and plan how best to enter their homes. Instead, he took to relieving them of their pensions before they got home! Later, he decided that even this method of operation was much too protracted and he escalated his approach by concentrating on pensioners using ATM cash outlets. He'd queue up behind them, then a quick elbo
w in the ribs and he was off with the lot! I remember him actually saying to me, one day: ‘Modern technology, mate, I reckon it's great’.
‘Ah, but the trouble with technology,’ I warned him, ‘is that it never stands still.’ What I was hinting at was, with this technology stuff, you always have to have a Plan B in your pocket, so to speak, in case it all goes pear shaped.
How right I was! You see, what was just around the corner, what neither of us anticipated, was the rapid development of supermarket banking. My local supermarket is right at the forefront of that movement. I think it's fantastic! So much so, I've even joined the scheme myself! Why? Because it protects me and you, from hard working pension-lifters like me mate. With pensions (and salaries) paid into such an account, your money can be accessed directly at the supermarket cash register. You can pay for your groceries and get your cash out (and even put cash in) in the comfort and security that comes from being inside the store under bright lights, surrounded by friendly service and security staff and customers.
Mark this especially, there is no need to stand in line outside on some windy street corner at a cash machine of a remote bank some distance away, or walk the streets anymore with large amounts of cash in your purse or wallet, exposed to the elements (including elements of the criminal kind). If you are wise, you will use your credit card to pay for your groceries and get just enough cash back to cover your small-shopping needs. The lesson here being: the less money you carry around, the less risk you have of losing it, right?
Yes. It's supermarket banking for me from now on. Mind you, I am a bit worried about me mate though. I mean, everybody's got to earn a living somehow, right? I just hope he's got a Plan B. If he has, I guess it's probably to work as far away from shopping centres as he possibly can.
Cheers!
Ben Urglar
4
NUMBER PLATE PIRATES
An item in the the local paper caught my eye. It said six car number plates had been stolen between Friday and Monday in this area! How many must go off in a week, a year, even?
Now if you are not really into smash-and-grab, bank-hoists, ram-raids and that sort of thing, then the next worst thing would be to have your number plates used on a car that was!
Can you imagine it? The Police hammering on your door and demanding to know where you were, who you were with and what you were up to on a certain night of the week? How difficult it would be remembering even your own name, let alone where you've been and what you did days, perhaps even weeks, ago, especially when you are subjected to that kind of outrageous harrassment and stress? It just shouldn't happen, should it? But the truth is, false number plates are a terrific help to any enterprising nightworker who's out there trying to earn a bit of tax-free cash on the side. How easy are they to lift? Too easy! Much too easy. Just two little screws to undo and anybody's plates can be yours. They are just there for the taking!
Only those in the know, or those who have an aversion to chatting with the Police about who was doing what with whom on any particular time and day of the week, take the trouble to do anything to protect themselves against the Number Plate Pirates.
How do you stop those number plate pirates from whipping your plates off in two minutes flat? How? Well, I always hit mine (well, lightly touch them really) using an electric drill to spoil the screw heads. But if you don't have a drill, then a touch of glue or filler, anything to prevent a screwdriver from engaging in the screw heads and the job is done, right? Your plates are now Number Plate Pirate proof! Now you have no need to fear the Policeman's knock! Now ain’t that a comfort!
Cheers!
Ben Urglar
5
A TV EDUCATION
I reckon anybody that watches TV must have a good education. Why? Because your average kid at age ten knows more about cars than a mechanic, more about guns than a gunsmith and more about bodies than a mortician! Every mother and grandmother you meet, is more of an expert on crime than any previous generation!
There's no doubt, you see, that TV teaches you the essential facts of life. For instance, we all know, don't we, that if we come home and find the front door open, we'll go in and get knocked unconscious or find a dead body! If we do find a body and pull the knife out or touch the gun on the floor, just out of interest of course; we're likely to be facing a five-to-ten stretch, before some Smart Alec who’s watched even more TV, comes along and proves we didn't do it. In the meantime, your partner will have nicked off with your next-door neighbour or your best friend! When you can't pay your legal bills they'll have you back in jail doing it tough so fast the electric blanket will still be warm, the TV will still be on standby and your last number redial still gets you the TAB! We also know from TV, that if in an emergency you call the Police, the Ambulance and order a pizza while you wait, the pizza is bound to arrive first, right?
So, whatever you do, don't stop the kids from watching as much TV as they like. You see, they might even learn a trade. I know I did. I learnt all about open and shut cases; entry and re-entry; ups and downs; how and when to ‘lift’ and how not to ‘lift’; and how to think like a tiger and walk like a cat. Moreover, I learnt about commerce, trade and politics; the importance of wealth distribution and the importance too of closing the gap between the haves and have-nots. To that effect, I have dedicated my entire life and I’ll be visiting you in your town real soon. See you later (you can bet on it!)
Take care!
Ben Urglar
6
TOOLS OF THE TRADE
You locals are so lucky with all these new developments going on around here. You are! You can now get just about anything you need locally. It's true! Do you know, I was down at the shops only recently and a tobacconist there had a replica handgun on display. Straight up! I think it's terrific. It looks just like a real automatic pistol! Of course, if you pull the trigger, it then becomes obvious it's a cigarette lighter but, who's to know that, at first glance, eh? The whole point of the damn thing is to deceive, isn't it? If you were to walk into a shop or a service station one night, with a ski mask or a scarf around your fizz and one of them things in your hand, nobody's going to ask you for a light, just to check if it's real, are they! No! They are going to hand over what ever it is you want. Great, eh?
Oh, yes. It's nice to know that one can tool up as we say in the trade and do it so easily. I mean, I believe in shopping locally, I really do. It avoids all that touring round the dingy old pubs and clubs in town when you need the odd tool for a local job.
Hey, here's a funny thought: if a kid wants to buy some fags they have to be eighteen, or look eighteen. But to buy a dummy gun? Well… Do you know of any laws against that? Nah, neither do I. Here's another one to get you thinking; what about someone like me buying one and claiming it as tax deduction - ‘tools of trade’, eh? What do you reckon? Well, I’ll tell you. I get deductions for my car, my van, even my jemmy! Why not, eh? It’s a great country, right?
Of course now I've let the cat out of the bag, so to speak, I suppose your busybody, do-gooder, neighbourhood watchers will all be up in arms (no pun intended), about the sale of such things as replica guns around here. Hmmm, yes, come to think of it, I guess I ought to get down to the shops and get myself a new cigarette lighter and I'd better do it, eh? Before you lot all try and put a stop to it.
Cheers!
Ben Urglar
7
TRUST ME - PLEASE!
You know, people just don't seem to trust people anymore. Have you noticed that? I have, ‘cause it impinges on my business.
Only the other day, I knocks and this old wrinkly guy comes to the door. Being as helpful as I can, I says: 'You know your guttering's in a bit of a state, do you?' He has a blank, far away look on his face, like some of them oldies do and I think maybe I'm on a winner, know what I mean? Anyway, 'It's stuffed,' I says to him. 'It needs fixing.' He comes out to have a look, but says nothing. I have
another go: 'What you reckon, then?' I asks. 'I can fix it for you, if you like.'
'Nah, it's always been like that,' he says.
I have another go. 'Ah, yes. But the Council, they're always making new rules on health and safety. And if you don't fix it, they might come and see it's unsafe and fine you, thousands, mate. You best to get it done now. It’ll be cheaper in the long run.'
'His tired old eyes lit up. 'Cheap? Cheap, did you say? How cheap?'
Now I'm getting somewhere. 'About a eight-hundred for a proper job - fixing and painting. But since I'm in the area this week, six-fifty. What do you say?'
For a minute I think I'm there and then he says: 'You got any identification?' Me? Identification, oh I shudders at the thought. What is the world coming to?
'Not on me. But the guttering is dangerous. I couldn't help noticing, being in the trade, like. Best get it done, now, eh? Tell you what, you give me cash up front and the jobs done by the end of the week. How about that?'
'Haven't got six-fifty in the house. I'm only a pensioner.' When they say that, it usually means you're close to a deal and they're angling for a discount. 'Six hundred then and I'll run you down to the bank. Can't be fairer than that, eh?'