This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Urban_II on 2024-10-15 01:59:43+00:00.
I started a new job last week. I found the posting on an online job board, a contract gig lasting three months. No benefits, no PTO accrual, but after a year of post-graduation unemployment, I had to take what I could get. The posting itself was incredibly vague: it listed the pay rate, contract length, and the terse description “logistics and recovery”.
The interview did little to clear up my day-to-day responsibilities, nor did it shed light on what exactly the company did. “Your job,” explained the hiring manager, “will consist mainly of data entry, with a bit of inventory management as well”.
“So mainly working at a desk?” I asked.
“Yes, though you will occasionally have to handle new deliveries as they arrive. You won’t need to unload, just scan in the shipment and update in the system that it’s been collected.”
“Sounds easy enough,” I replied. “So, what exactly does the company do?”
An almost imperceptible pause, and a strange look came over his face. It was gone before I could tell whether it was anger or derision. “Logistics.”
After an awkward silence, he rose, and I followed suit. He smiled and shook my hand, then leaned in, suddenly serious. “Our client’s privacy is very important to us, and we pride ourselves on our discretion. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes,” I stammered, though truthfully, I had no idea what he was implying.
“Good! In that case, we’ll see you here bright and early Monday morning.”
Monday came around, and I went in for my first day. I arrived at the building, a single storied brutalist style rectangle, and badged in through the only available entrance besides the loading dock. I was shown to a dimly lit office with an open floor plan, and no windows. I sat at the desk that had been prepared for me, furnished with an older Dell computer and surrounded on three sides with low, half-height cubical walls. Surrounding my desk, and in rows in front and behind me, identical workstations stood nearly empty. Spread throughout the room as if to deliberately avoid one another, four other workers performed their duties without glancing up at the newcomer.
The remainder of my first day was spent working through training material, of which there was very little. It quickly became apparent that I had only two responsibilities, both infrequent. First: When a new email appeared in my inbox, I would copy the name and address, find an available driver, and add the information into the driver’s queue to be dispatched. Second: If a new shipment arrived at the delivery bay, I would go out to the truck or van and scan a barcode, then update my records that the shipment had been collected. The end of the day came around, and I left feeling confident that the next three months would be incredibly boring.
On Tuesday, my work began in earnest. Well, if you can call sitting on YouTube for hours at a time “work”. I didn’t receive a single email until just after lunch. As I sat back at my desk and prepared to kick back for another few hours, I heard a cheerful ping alert me to a new request. Happy to in some way contribute to earning my paycheck, I opened the message.
Subject: Collection Order #12773
Perry Smith
325 Royal Lane, Huntington, Nevada
As the training had prepared me to expect, the only contents were a name and address. I diligently copied down the information and searched my directory for an available driver. While there were a decent number of drivers to choose from, each with a wide service area where they would be available to dispatch to, the next available driver who could dispatch to Huntington wouldn’t be available for 24 hours. Well, I figured my job doesn’t entail optimizing our response times, and this was the best I could do for the given information. I created a new email, including Mr. Smith’s name and address, and sent it off to the driver.
With that email, my day’s work was done. No further orders came in on Tuesday, and I was able to head home at my scheduled time, again feeling a bit of guilt that I was being paid quite well for so little work.
On Wednesday, not long after arriving at work, I received a new email:
Subject: Collection Order #13990
Delilah Henderson
4990 Airport Boulevard, Apt #200, Phoenix, Arizona
“Early start today, huh?” I asked out loud, vainly hoping one of my coworkers would engage in conversation. As expected, they barely seemed to register that I had spoken. Grady, whose name I knew from the tag on his desk, rather than him ever having spoken to me, glanced up at me with the same odd look that my manager had given me in the interview. I decided against further attempts at friendliness.
Reluctantly following the others’ lead and silently performing my duties, I returned to Delilah’s order. This time, a driver was available to head to Phoenix that same day, just after 7 pm. I composed a new dispatch order and sent it off, patting myself on the back for another job well done. The next few hours passed with no new orders, and I went out to get a burger for my lunch break.
When I returned from lunch, I found that an email had arrived while I was gone:
Subject: Re: Collection Order #12773
Order retrieved. ETA 1500.
So, my first order would arrive at 3pm. I set an alarm on my computer to remind me to head to the delivery bay and continued my new usual routine of browsing the internet. When the appointed time came, I got up to meet the driver.
The loading dock was accessed through an access door on the back wall of our shared office space, which opened into a T-junction hallway. Through the office access door, the hallway led straight across through a set of swinging double doors into the delivery bay. To the right was a second set of double doors, with a placard labeled authorized access only. I continued straight through to my intended destination.
I entered a cramped, concrete room with a gate at one end and a forklift parked against the wall. When I entered, the gate had been retracted up into the ceiling, the opening now filled by a small truck with a single metal crate loaded inside. The driver remained in his truck, not even bothering to wave through his rear view as I approached the trailer. From the wall near the lip, I found a handheld scanner which would allow me to perform my part of this process. Stepping across the gap into the trailer, I approached the crate.
The corrugated metal cube came up to my waist. On top, several latches held the lid firmly in place, and a paper receipt with a barcode was affixed to the top.
Perry Smith
325 Royal Lane, Huntington, Nevada
10/09/2024
160 Lb, 6’1”
I scanned the barcode and moved back off the truck. While I was setting the scanner back on the charger, Grady walked in from the hallway. Not bothering to glance in my direction, he climbed up onto the forklift and started it up. Sensing that he would have no issue impaling me if I chose to stay where I was, I stepped out of the way and watched as he skillfully loaded the crate onto the tines, backed back out, and proceeded with the crate through the double doors, swinging shut behind him. I hurried after him, for some reason desperate to catch a glimpse at where he was taking the order, but the second set of doors had already closed by the time I reached the junction. Strangely dejected, I returned to my desk, and marked the order as collected.
As I lay in bed that night, I idly went over the events of the week so far. With each odd occurrence that I recalled; more questions kept bubbling to the surface. If I was receiving so few orders, why did the number go up significantly in between the two I had received? Were there really that many people doing this job, and if so, why not just have one person take multiple orders? Why did separate people scan and unload the crates, and what was being done with them behind the third door? If we were picking up merchandise, why were the addresses all homes and apartments? And-
The last question made me shiver. I felt my heart pound in my chest, and my mouth dried out. I hadn’t even thought about it at the time, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but now…
Why did the height and weight feel so wrong?
As this realization began to sink in, my phone suddenly came to life. Dissonance blared from the speakers, four unevenly timed tones. I looked down at the screen, eyes adjusting to the brightness:
AMBER ALERT: Phoenix, AZ
Delilah Henderson age 7
Last seen wearing a red t-shirt and blue overalls
Vehicle is a white Ford Transit
Last known location northbound I-17
I stared at the screen, unable to move. Delilah. I knew that name. I had dispatched an order to her just this morning. I felt a pressure in my chest, a horrible foreboding for what this meant. Unable to accept the implication, I thrust the thought from my mind. It was a coincidence. Just because we shipped something to her apartment, doesn’t mean her kidnapping was related. Besides, her family must have purchased something from us, otherwise why would we have gotten an order? Letting the denial take hold, I fruitlessly attempted to sleep.
On Thursday morning, my denial was shattered. In my inbox, a new email waited, received last night at 9 pm:
Subject: Re: Collection Order #13990
Order retrieved. ETA 0930.
It was 9:00 am. I had half an hour until…the next order arrived. I looked...
Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1g3wxkt/i_took_a_contract_job_and_found_something_i_wasnt/