When the manager came around, I told him, “I came into your gym yesterday. When I was working out, someone popped the lock off my locker and took about two hundred dollars out of my wallet.”
The manager was round, with a tuft of brown hair. “Can I see the lock, sir?”
I got the lock out of my car and showed it to him. “There, you see? There’s a bunch of dents and scratches on the top that wasn’t there before. And the lock was closed yesterday when I got back to it. I’m guessing somebody pried or forced it, took my money out.”
“Something like this happened about a month ago,” said the manager. “The lock was bent in the same way. Are you going to use this lock again?”
“Hell no,” I said. “It’s yours.”
“You get a lot of stuff stolen?” asked.