Locksmiths, Florida and the Russian mob

The New York Times has a blog called The Board written by a group of journalists on their editorial board. Last August I happened to read board member Verlyn Klinkenborg’s post entitled “A Bad Day.” It was a litany of exasperating experiences that piled up all in one day.

Klinkenborg’s bad day began as he left for work. He found he was locked in his apartment with a deadbolt that wouldn’t retract.

What originally intrigued me about the story was Klinkenborg’s next sentence:

“If you’ve ever called an emergency locksmith on a Sunday, you know what followed – a visit from the Russian mafia, which accepts only cash on weekends, a whopping bill, and a grudging drive in the locksmith’s van to a nearby ATM.”

“Hum, so the Russian mafia is probably controlling the whole locksmith industry in New York City,” I thought. “Glad we don’t have that problem in Florida.”

I didn’t think about it again until ten days later when I received a call on our business line from a man with a heavy Russian accent and broken English.

“Hello. What is Martin Security? You a locksmith?”

“Yes, Sir, we are,” I replied. “How can I help you?”

“I find you online. Craig’s List. This is Locksmith 911. I lost a man in your area and need someone to take care of a lady. You do Orlando?

“Yes, now, what did you say your name was?” I asked. “Are you in Central Florida?”

“This is Russell with Locksmith 911. We work all over Florida. I lose a man. You do the job? Yes?”

“Yes,” I said. Since I was at my computer I did a reverse phone number search on the name and number listed on my digital display. His name and number matched, but he was calling from a landline in Manhattan, NY.

As Russell gave me the particulars of the job, I searched the Florida Department of Corporations website, but a company by the name of Locksmith 911 was not found. A dozen businesses were listed under Russell’s name, but all were medical industry companies (medical supplies, doctor groups, HMO’s). Russell must have a common Russian surname.

“I give you this one free,” said Russell about the financial arrangements. “Next time you pay me 30 percent and you get to keep 70 percent. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said. “But where do I send you the money? What’s your address here in Florida?

“Next time I call, I give you my address and you mail me a business check.”

“Right,” I thought, “I’m going to send my check with my bank account numbers on it to someone who may be in the Russian mafia. No way!”

I assured Russell that if for some reason we couldn’t do the job, I would get another locksmith to do it. We hung up and after thinking about what transpired, I decided to toss this hot potato to Jerry, a fellow locksmith, who accepted the job after I explained the situation.

Russell’s Florida business must have slowed down or he discovered I passed the job on. In either case, he’s never called again.