Last summer, I worked the night shift at a grocery store, stocking shelves and cleaning up the place to get it ready for the next day. I was always paired with a guy named John, who had been there for years. During our shift, it would only be the two of us, with most lights off except a dim set illuminating the store enough for us to get our job done.

It was a comfortable job, where half the night we would spend our time stocking the shelves together, talking about this and that, while the other half, we would split up to do our cleaning. On this particular night, it was stormy — rain hammered the glass while the wind screamed and thunder rolled through the walls. A couple of hours into our shift, John and I were in an aisle taking one of our many breaks to just chat. John was going on about the intricacies of a show he was watching until we both stopped, startled by the banging on the front windows.

Looking at each other, we were confused as to who would do such a thing so late at night. The banging continued, so we decided to creep towards the front of the store, trying to stay out of sight. When we peered around the corner of one of the aisles, we saw a man outside the window, slightly hunched, getting soaked in the rain, shaking from being cold and wet, looking downwards as he banged the glass with both fists in unison.

Thinking it was a homeless person, we decided to simply ignore him. However, I heard him saying something. Curious, I got out of hiding and walked to the window. The man was still looking down so he didn’t notice me. Still, I could now hear him more clearly. He was repeating the words: “I need help please. My car won’t start. I need a boost.” He kept saying this over and over again in a monotone, faint voice. John crept behind me, keeping his distance, and I told him that this man was caught in the rain because his car wouldn’t start. That was when the man looked up at me, and I could see the emptiness in his eyes — he looked like he was lonely and in pain. I felt pity for this shaking, cold, drenched man. I asked him what he needed to get more clarity but he repeated the same phrases yet again. I asked where his car was, and he finally stopped chanting those words and pointed to the corner of the parking lot, a ways to the back. I told him I would meet him there to jump start his car.

John tried to stop me, calling it stupid. But for some reason, I felt sorry for this man. Besides, if I didn’t help him, he would continue banging on the window, and we would have to get police involved, which would have been another headache. So, I made my way to the back of the building, to the employee exit door where we parked in a separate parking lot. I ran to my car, which only took a couple of seconds, but the rain was so thick that I felt completely soaked. To get to the customer parking lot, I had to drive out onto the road and around a bend to get in front of the store. I drove my car to the corner of the parking lot where the man pointed, and parked in front of an old, rusty van. I saw the man walking from the front of the store towards the cars, but he was slow, limping, almost unbothered by the storm. I sat in my car and waited.

As I sat there, I looked into the man’s van, and there was a lady in the passenger seat. I thought it must be his wife. But there was something wrong with her. She was in a fetal position, rocking back and forth. I found it unnerving, but who knew what was wrong with her. I tried to look around instead, and I could just make out the garbage bins and skids, barely visible, stacked in towers. I was growing impatient by the time the man finally arrived. He walked past my car without looking at me, walked straight to his van and hopped into the driver’s seat. I thought it made sense at first as he had to pop the hood to access the battery, but instead, he just sat there. Confused, I waited to see what he was going to do, but he stayed put in his van while the lady beside him continued to rock.

I started to have a bad feeling about this and looked around. That was when I saw two other men hiding behind the skids. They were dressed in black, hunched over, trying to conceal themselves. That’s when I knew it was some kind of setup. It didn’t seem like the men noticed me noticing them. So I just quickly spun around and drove back to the employee exit door. Using my key to get in, I rushed inside and yelled for John to make sure all the doors were locked. Without asking, he did exactly that. When we were sure the building was secured, I explained to John what had happened. He, of course, had me admit that he was right, that I shouldn’t have gone out there.

We didn’t know what to do, so we went upstairs to the top windows to see if they were still there. The van was still parked. Uncertain of our next move, we waited. Then we heard the window being pounded again from below. The man was back, and from the top window, I could hear him faintly: once again, he was repeating those same words. That was when it came to me — this man was told to say exactly that, and he continued to recite the phrases, with no deviation. I had a bad feeling about it, as something was really wrong with these people. An instant flood of courage came over me, and I ran back downstairs, yelled at the man to leave us alone, warned him the cops were on their way, and went back upstairs.

John looked at me with astonishment, as I peered out the window. We could see the man walk back to his van, at that slow pace, limping his way there. With the rain and the distance, it was hard to see. We weren’t sure what he was going to do. But then, that corner of the parking lot lit up and we watched the van drive away. We looked at each other, and I was right — it was a setup. For the rest of the night, we worked as a pair, not leaving each other’s side and being more alert than normal. Then the shift ended and we went home, never seeing that man or van again. But it still bothers me to this day. What did those people want? But what really haunts me the most is that whatever they were doing, they were taking advantage of my kindness to do something malicious to me. Now, I naturally think twice before helping someone, which has made me the person I never wanted to be.